


abandoned work (sort of)

by antiviancrows



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, F/M, I'm not sure what this is, Minor Fenris/Female Hawke, it makes sense to me, minor past Thane Krios/Female Shepard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 37,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4345310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiviancrows/pseuds/antiviancrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ABANDONED, sort of?<br/>I have sort of abandoned this (but not really!). I'm posting a new version within the next few days (hopefully). I don't want to take this down until I get caught up on the revisions, but there's a lot that I wasn't happy with in this fic. The new version will (hopefully) have better characterization, better formatting, new scenes, and much more. Overall, it'll be a lot better of a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. from the void

The world is here, yet not. There is nothing in this space, yet there is everything contained here. Flickering forms surround a crumpled form on the floor. A woman, her hair red like fire, rises, her hand clutching her ribs even though nothing hurt anymore. She is wearing her armor as it was, unbroken and whole. At the end of the could-be ruin were two thrones raised up on a dais. The woman recognizes this place, with it's strange flickering shapes that are both there and not there. "Rise, my child," comes a soft female voice. When the woman's eyes focus on the thrones, she finds them full. "No," the woman whimpers, broken and defeated, "no more." The goddess rises, stepping down the steps leading from her throne. "We have need of you once more, my daughter," she admonishes. The woman curls in on herself for a moment before she looks up at the woman again. "How much more must I give?" she asks wearily. In this moment, she is not the savior of two worlds. She is broken and defeated, and she is tired. So very tired.

"I chose you for a reason, my child," rumbles the man, still seated on his throne, "do not tell me that I am wrong." She cannot deny that this man, this god, is the one who made her who she is. He made her great and terrible, but she never wanted anything more than a normal life. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes to keep her tears from falling. "I have lost so much. Is it not enough for you?" she asks. The goddess touches her face, but the woman is lost in memory for a brief moment. A green-scaled man with deep dark eyes blinks slowly at her, her name a whispering smile on his lips. An asari smiles up at her, her deep blue eyes wide in her face and a childish excitement on her face. And long before that, a woman with orange eyes and black hair falls out of a coffin into her arms. "Know that we are proud of you, daughter. But we have need of you again, and you must rise to meet this need," the goddess says. "Come, daughter. Trust us," the god says, and the woman raises her head to meet his gaze. She has anger in her eyes, anger and sadness. "Send me on my way, then. I'm just a pawn for you anyways," she says, bitterly.

The goddess steps in front of her, cupping her hands around the woman's face. "Aleksander, if you do as we require, then we will give you a reward. I promise," she whispers, and Aleksander swallows heavily. "Then send me on my way," she answers, closing her eyes again and gritting her teeth. In the next heartbeat, she is falling. She opens her eyes to flashes of green and brown, and she is suddenly all too aware of a burning pain in her hand. She might have screamed. _Why can't I ever begin somewhere nice?_ she thinks, and then her world is blessedly black once more.


	2. bound again

When next she woke, she was in chains once more. This always happens to me, she thought bitterly, tugging on the cold metal bar that chained her arms together. Her head is aching, and the air in the dark dungeon she is in is damp and cold. She shivers, though the strange clothes she is wearing is keeping her warm enough. She is reminded of another place, another time, despite the aching mark on her hand. She is not sure what's transpired to put it there, only the memories the gods gave her. She is still human, thankfully, only now she has shallow memories of a noble family that she knows is hers yet feels no claim to. The first time she had been reincarnated, the flimsiness of these memories scared her. Though she knew what to expect this time, it was still jarring. The before did not matter. The gods needed her here, at a turning point in the history of this world, so that was where she was, with memories that she didn't experience to fill in the gaps. She kneels on the stone floor, her knees long since bruised and aching, the cold long since seeped from the stone. The mark flickers with a green light and she lets out a soft moan that echoes in the chambers.

The door bursts open with a bang, and there are two women striding in, the first one very obviously a soldier like her, with armor that glistens in the faint light. The other woman hangs back behind her friend as the first one approaches. Her hair is short and dark, her face hard and angry, and she moves behind Aleksander with a deadly grace. "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now," the woman demands, her voice thick with an accent that Aleksander couldn't place. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you." The woman's voice was thick with an emotion that Alek understood and recognized. She was angry and desperate and she wanted vengeance for the lives lost. And there had been a great many lives lost. She had both been there at the Conclave and had not, and was not sure what had happened or how she survived, but she did know that her life was in a precarious place right now. She had to be careful of what she said, but she wanted to show this woman that she grieved for the lives lost just as she did, though perhaps not as deeply.

"All those people…" she murmured in disbelief. The woman reached forward, yanking on the hand with the mark. "Explain this," she growled. Alek knew this woman wanted answers, someone she could blame, but Aleksander also knew that this woman was threatening her and Aleksander did not like to be threatened. As the woman thrust her hand away like it was poison, the mark glowed, and the throb of pain did nothing to ease Alek's mind. "I can't," Alek bites out. "What do you mean you can't?" the woman demands, stalking around her. "I don't know what that is or how it got there," Alek says, doing her best to keep her anger out of her voice. "You're lying," the woman snarled, launching forward and wrapping her gloved fingers around Aleksander's throat. Alek didn't even have time to jerk away before the other woman had grabbed the first's arm and pulled her away. "We need her, Cassandra," she said soothingly, and Alek tried to relax outwardly.

"I don't understand," Alek murmured, her voice soft in the darkness. The who had stopped Cassandra stepped forward. Alek half expected her to kneel down and look her in the eye. "Do you remember what happened? How this began?" she asks, and her voice is not as grating and rough as Cassandra's. "I remember….running. And there were...things chasing me," Aleksander answered, straining to remember those few moments before she had lost consciousness again, "and then there was a woman." The woman in front of her cocked her head. "A woman?" she asked, an underlying current in her voice that Alek couldn't place. Alek nodded. "She reached out to me. But then…" Alek trailed off, unable to recall what had happened after she had reached the woman. Cassandra stepped forward. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift," she says. Her voice was calmer than it had been before. Perhaps she genuinely believed Aleksander. Leliana gave a nod as she turned to go, and Cassandra turned back to Alek, who was still kneeling on the floor.

Cassandra knelt and unlocked the heavy manacle around Aleksander's wrists. "What did happen?" Alek asks. She surprisingly didn't know. The Divines usually gave her the knowledge so she would know what she was talking into, but this time there was a gap in her memory. Cassandra helps her to her feet before she speaks, her touch firm, yet not rough like it had been before. "It...will be easier to show you," she murmurs. Alek's skin prickled. Something was deeply wrong here, and people seemed to think she was at the heart of it. Her hands were still bound by a rope as Cassandra led the way up, out of the dungeon. As they got closer to the outside, Alek grew both more relaxed and more tense. She didn't know what to expect.

The heavy oaken doors opened onto a snowy village that reminded her of...home? No, not home. Not anymore. It hadn't been home in a long time. The light burned her eyes and at first she flinched away from it. But she was eager to feel the weak sun on her skin and stepped after Cassandra without a change in her pace. Until she looked up, she thought everything was fine. Then she saw the hole in the sky. Awestruck, she stopped moving, craning her head back to look at it. Everything about it was wrong. The sick green light. The swirling shape. She shook her head and looked back down, back at Cassandra. "We call it 'the Breach.' It's a massive rift in the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such rift, but it is the largest. All of them were caused by the explosion at the Conclave," Cassandra says, her eyes on the sky. Aleksander looked back up and felt a strange sense of mourning. "An explosion can do that?" she asks, although by now nothing should have been surprising. Explosions can tear open the sky, a thresher maw beats a reaper, and a scroll can send a dragon back into time. "This one did," Cassandra answers, dragging Alek away from her real memories, "and unless we act, it may grow to consume the world." Oh, great, she thought, another world eater I have to deal with. Just then the Breach in the sky pulsed, and her mark along with it. Aleksander let out a cry she couldn't bite back and fell to her knees once more. Her vision flickered as she drew her hand close to her stomach.

As quickly as it happened, it's over, and her mark lies dormant as the pain recedes. Cassandra kneels next to her. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it's killing you," she murmurs. Aleksander felt miserable, if she hadn't before. This was what the Nine had required of her? "It may be the key to stopping this but we don't have much time," Cassandra warned. Aleksander looked up at her and let out a deep breath, dispelling the last of the pain. Now her hand was harbored a dull ache, but it was bearable. So much was, now. "I will do all I can," she swears, and she feels a faint sense of approval. Whether it is Cassandra's or something divine, she cannot say. Cassandra pulled Alek to her feet once more, a hand kept on the small of her back. Alek couldn't tell if this was to keep her upright or to mark her as untouchable in the eyes of the others. Even after she saw the glares from the others, she couldn't tell.

"They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven are mourning our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, Head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between the mages and the templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead," Cassandra tells her as they walk towards the gates, "we lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, like she did, until the breach is sealed." They stopped on a bridge. Aleksander took a moment to look around. The place reminded her of Windhelm in a way that ached. The snow, the cold, the unforgiving snow, were all remnants of another place. Her heart ached. She wanted to go back, to fight again for a cause she felt deeply. She was, in one moment, the lost and confused girl who had woken on her way to an execution.

Cassandra drew a dagger and turned to her, sawing at the ropes binding her wrists. "There will be a trial. I can promise no more," she says. This situation feels all too familiar for Aleksander, and for a moment she is back in Helgen, surrounded by crumbling stones that vibrate with a dragon's roar, and instead of Cassandra in front of her it is Ralof. The rope gives way with a final tug, and Aleksander is dragged back to the present. "Come, it is not far," Cassandra orders. "Where are you taking me?" Alek thinks to ask. Why she had not so before was beyond her. Perhaps coming to awareness again had been more disorienting than she had thought. "Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach. I am taking you to a smaller rift to do so," Cassandra answers, and she's leading the way again at a brutal pace. Aleksander followed her, dodging the people pushing past them as Cassandra slipped past another gate. They were following a trail, Alek realized, when another pulse went through her hand and she crumpled. Cassandra stopped briefly and helped her up gently. "The pulses are coming faster, now," she tells her, patting her shoulder once before starting off again. Alek swallowed the pain, the mark on her hand still glowing, and ran after her. "The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, and the more demons we face," Cassandra informs her. Alek's stomach twists. This was indeed a dire situation. "How did I survive the blast?" she asks, her eyes resting between Cassandra's shoulder blades as she jobs to keep up with the taller woman.

"They said you...stepped out of a rift. Then fell unconscious," Cassandra answers, and this only brought Alek more confusion, "they say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was." They step onto another bridge and keep going. Halfway across, a green bolt from the sky landed on the bridge, causing it to crumble. They started to fall, and on Alek Shouted on instinct. "FEIM," she screamed, and when she landed on the ice, she felt none of the impact. She let out a deep breath, though at the moment she didn't have to, and waited for her physical body to return to her. Cassandra was crawling to her feet beside her, as if she hadn't noticed what Alek had done. Another bolt hit and demons emerged. Cassandra charged forward. "Stay behind me," she yelled, as she brought her sword and shield up. Off to the side, among the broken bits of a chest, lay a greatsword. It was not the best sort of greatsword one could get, but it was a weapon, and as another demon appeared and lunged for her, Aleksander made up her mind.

She rolled to the side and grabbed the greatsword, bringing it up just before the demon's claws could hit her chest. Instead, they scored deep gouges down her wrist, only marginally hampered by her armor. Alek pushed against the demon, letting out a feral yell, and swung the greatsword the second she got the leverage. Her feet were sliding on the ice; were they not and she would have put more force into the blow. As it was, the demon was now missing a large chunk of itself, and Alek spun away in a grateful whirl, her blade coming back around to slice the thing in half. She paused for a moment, her eyes sweeping over the frozen river-turned-battlefield and saw Cassandra finishing off the other demon. Alek let out a breath of relief and walked closer. "It's over now, I think," Alek says, and Cassandra fixes her with a withering glare. "Put your weapon down," she growls, and Alek's eyes widen for a second as she remembered that she was still a prisoner. "Of course, Cassandra," she murmured, leaning down to place the blade on the ice. "Wait! Though I have no doubts that you could survive without the weapon, you should keep it. I will not be able to defend you and I should not expect you to go defenseless," she amended, and Aleksander smiled. "Thank you. I was hoping you'd see sense. I'd hate to end up as demon-food," she replied cheerfully, sheathing the blade on her back. Cassandra merely rolled her eyes and they were off.

Aleksander Shepard was very horrified to realize that the demons came from the Breach, and other, smaller rifts that opened up. When they came on a mage and a dwarf battling more of the things right in front of a rift, Aleksander leapt into battle and started hacking away at any enemy she saw. Alek could use any weapons, and wear most sorts of armor, but the weight of the greatsword in her hand was quite comforting as she landed hit after hit on the monsters. The fight was over nearly before it had begun, leaving Alek sweaty and panting and covered in demon gore. The elven mage grabbed her hand and pointed it at the rift, and it flared up brightly in response. Alek bit back a shriek of pain. It felt as though the skin were ripping off of her bones and by the time she could snatch her hand back to her chest, the rift had closed.

The elf was a man named Solas, who she was pleased to find out had kept the mark from killing her before she could awaken. He had been the one to theorize that since the mark came from the Breach, it might be able to seal it and the corresponding rifts that had opened up. The dwarf's name was Varric, and he had a very nice crossbow on his back, and he was a prisoner just like she. After a brief argument where Cassandra didn't want Varric along and Aleksander very much did, they were on the move again, with Varric and Solas now trailing along with them.

It was less than a minute later that more demons attacked. "Are you glad you brought me now, Seeker?" Varric yelled as Aleksander launched herself off the small ledge and drove her sword through a demon, letting out a snarl as it tried to shake her off. Her feet slipped on the ice as she struggled to find leverage, the greatsword twisting in the demon's flesh as she did so, angering it. It reached up to take a swipe at her, and she couldn't move out of the way. It's claws came down, agonizingly, onto her back, scoring three deep lines before a steel bolt embedded itself in the demon's head, causing it to explode, and leaving her covered with the steaming mess. She picked her sword up and dove right back into the right, cutting through one of those annoying green demons almost effortlessly. Her back screamed from the exertion and she let out a deep breath of relief when she found no more demons in the immediate area.

Her back needed attention right away. She passed the sword to the first person to reach her side. It was Cassandra, she noted later, as she summoned the spell to hand. The only spells she'd ever bothered to learn had been restoration ones. She was quite proficient in that specific school, as a matter of fact, and it paid off as the warm golden light encircled her. It took the ache out of the other hand and it helped to staunch the bleeding in her back. She ran out of mana before the spell could heal her completely, but the danger of bleeding out or getting an infection was passed. She noticed their looks as she accepted her sword back from Cassandra, who turned around and took off at a jog. The others followed closely behind the dark-haired woman. "So, what was that thing you just did back there? A side effect of the mark?" Varric asks as they jog up a set of stairs cut into the mountainside.

"Restoration magic. I come from...far away. Very far away. That's a type of magic that you people have never seen before," she answers. "Where do you come from?" The question comes, not from Varric, but from Solas. "Place called Tamriel. Specifically Skyrim. Cold and harsh in most regions. Few places where the climate is more mild," she answered, cresting a ridge. "Skyrim, you say? That's not too far," Solas says, and Aleksander stops cold. She couldn't be on Nirn, yet…

She whirls around. "What do you mean it's not far? How far is it exactly?" she demands. "It's a month's travel by boat across the sea. I haven't been there myself, but I had a friend who had. He said the boat landed in a city that was as cold and unforgivable as her people," Solas answers, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Windhelm. It has to be," Alek murmurs to herself. She very faintly remembers a promise made by a god, and she wonders if this is it. "I hear those people are barbarians," Varric remarks. "We can talk about this later. We have to move," Cassandra barks out, her patience at an end, and Aleksander scurries after her.

Just outside the forward camp, there was another rift, with demons pouring out. Alek leaped into battle like a well-oiled machine, her movements graceful and deadly. She watched her allies just as closely as her enemies and she dodged around their attacks as she wove between the demons. The fight dragged on longer than the others had, but this time she received no major injuries. She sealed the rift without Solas's help this time, though it was no less painful. The gates swung open, and Cassandra lead the ragged group through them and into the forward camp. They restocked what potions they had used, and they came upon a couple of people arguing. Aleksander recognized the woman as Leliana, but she'd never seen the man before.

"Ah, here they come," he says. "You made it!" Leliana exclaimed warmly. She introduced the man as Chancellor Roderick and within seconds he was demanding that Aleksander be taken somewhere and executed. "Isn't closing the Breach a more pressing issue?" Alek asks. "You're the reason everything's like this!" Roderick growls, then turns to Cassandra, "call a retreat, Seeker." They launched into another argument that left Aleksander with an aching head. She perked up when they mentioned two possibilities. They could charge with the soldiers, or they could take a mountain path. Charging would be more direct and get them there quicker, but they were less likely to be noticed and targeted by the demons if they went through the mountain path. Cassandra managed to catch Alek by surprise, however, when she asked what she thought. "Now you're asking me what I think?" Alek asks, blinking in surprise. "You have the mark," Solas says. "And we cannot agree on our own," Cassandra adds. Aleksander thought for a moment, weighing the options carefully. "I say we charge," Alek answers, "I won't survive long enough for your trial. Whatever happens happens now." Cassandra dipped her head in approval. "The consequences will be on your head, Seeker," Roderick calls after them. "No," Alek replies, "they'll be on mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that it's the rough drafts I'm posting of the chapters. It's not going to be polished and nice, but at least I'll be getting it out there for anyone who wants the base of the story. If at any time Aleksander veers towards a Mary Sue, let me know. I'll try to balance everything out to the best of my abilities, but suggestions on the matter would be very helpful. 
> 
> Obviously, I'm making this an AU where one can undergo a very long journey and reach Tamriel from Thedas. I hope this isn't too lore-breaking since I'm going to bring in Liara and the little blue baby after the Inquisition reaches Skyhold. As for the 'how' on that, I'll explain that when I bring them in, which won't be for awhile at least. 
> 
> I'm going to go ahead and warn you, I'm going to skip over the charge with the soldiers. I'll skip over sealing the rift beneath the Breach. This fic will be picked back up when the Herald wakes up back in Haven.


	3. herald of andraste

_A dark forest with skeleton trees and whispers of the dead and running, always running. Towards something or away from something? Forgotten memories linger on the edges, taunting and teasing. Reaching and reaching and never catching._

_A dying man with a deep voice and a kind smile reaches for her and Aleksander reaches back. "Go, siha," he tells her, and she does not want to. She is already out of breath and tired from running; her legs ache and burn and so do her lungs. She reaches for him again and he pushes her past him, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "I will be waiting for you across the sea," he promises, and Aleksander runs._

_A kind woman with deep blue eyes and skin that is even more blue brushes against her as she runs, sending a solid sense of comfort to her. This woman is important but Aleksander cannot stop to place who she is and she is still running as her heart aches. "I'm sorry that we were not enough," she says, the words torn out of her mouth. The woman tries to stops her, but Aleksander cannot even slow._

_A pale woman with short dark hair is yelling at her and Aleksander can't make out the words but she knows they are meant to inspire her to help. She feels lost; doesn't she always help? She pushes on, chasing after something she cannot name._

_There is another woman with dark hair and a smile on her bloodstained lips and Aleksander breathes her name as she passes, reaching out, but the woman smiles and steps out of her reach and Aleksander is alone again._

_A wolf intrudes upon her dreams with grey-blue eyes that stare at her quizzically and Aleksander knows on a fundamental level that this wolf holds answers so she reaches out, and the wolf gives her a smile before turning tail and running. He stops a few paces away and looks back at her, as if waiting for her to follow. "Who are you?" she asks, but her voice is thick and muffled and the wolf only smiles again as Aleksander reaches up to touch her pointed ears. She is different and she is the same but Aleksander does not know who she is. The wolf perks his ears and takes off running and this time Aleksander follows him._

_She loses the wolf in the fog but she sees a blonde man with a fur cloak waiting underneath one of the dead trees and she wants to tell him to leave this place because it is evil and bad and he is good and should not be here but her tongue won't work and she is out of breath and suddenly the forest is gone and it is dark. Aleksander feels like she is underwater and she claws her way to the surface._

Aleksander wakes with a start just as a young elven woman walks into her room. As she sits up the woman drops the box she is carrying. Her reaction puzzles Aleksander. "It's all right! Where I am?" The elven woman drops to her knees and kneels before her and Alek feels deeply uncomfortable at the sight. "You're back in Haven, Your Worship," the woman answers and Alek has to ask her to please leave. "Of course. I am sorry for intruding. Seeker Cassandra wishes to speak with you. At once, she said! She's in the Chantry now. At once!" says the woman before bowing and scurrying out.

It is then that Alek takes notice of her body and what it is telling her. She is cold and nearly naked, stripped down to her underthings. Her body is aching and sore but as rested as it can be, but her head aches and as she stands and looks at herself in the mirror she finally sees the new scars on her back. Her old scars and her old tattoos have carried over, the thick, twirling black lines beginning at her collarbone and extending down to her ankles. Her hair is red, a constant across all three lifespans, but it hangs limply. _I need a bath,_ she thinks, observing herself critically. At the foot of her bed is a pack that had somehow managed to join her once more. She smiles fondly and opens it, sorting through the contents. The unassuming bag holds much more than it should be able to, and Aleksander is pleased to see all her old armor and weapons there. There are so many memories contained in this simple, worn, burlap sack. Aleksander wouldn't give them up for anything.

Cassandra had wanted to see her at once, so Aleksander pulls on a black armor that looks like midnight and combats the cold for her. It somehow still fits. She once wore this armor proudly back home. Nightingale, she had been called, the whispers following her through the streets. She had been called many things in that life, and if what Solas had said to be true, she still was. She wondered if she could get back to Tamriel, and if the people there would recognize her in her new body. She wondered if they were still alive. Shaking her head as if that would clear it, she stashed her pack underneath her bed and stepped out into the weak winter sunlight. A guard posted outside nodded his head at her respectfully, and she returned the gesture.

Haven was a beautiful village, if a bit crowded at the moment. Since Cassandra was expecting her, she did not stop to chat, but she noted the many sideways glances. She did not know if they were directed at her race or her armor, but she put it out of her mind. She was there to save the world. That did not mean the people had to like her, although she was puzzled about her sudden reincarnation as an elf.

She walked into the middle of an argument, and as soon as she did, Chancellor Roderick ordered her arrest. Cassandra immediately undermined that order and within minutes had declared an Inquisition. The suddenness left Aleksander's head reeling, but when they declared her the Herald of Andraste, she'd had to step in and correct them, almost automatically. Andraste did not send her. She didn't reveal who had, that would come later, but Andraste was not her god or the bride of her god, and she was not going to be her 'Herald.' She was going to save the world in the name of her own gods.

After the Inquisition was declared, Aleksander was introduced to the members who led it. Leliana and Cassandra she had already met, although now she had formal introductions. There was Cullen, who was the blonde man she'd met in the charge and the dark-skinned ambassador was Josephine. Leliana had politely informed her that a woman in the Hinterlands of Ferelden wished to speak with her, someone by the name of Mother Giselle. Which meant that Aleksander needed to gear up, and she and Cassandra would take Solas and Varric out to see what the woman wanted. Aleksander was already weary.

"How do you feel about your new title?" Cullen had asked her. "It's unsettling," she replied, "I do not worship the Maker. And to become a symbol of faith for those who do? I'm worried about offending them. I have my own gods." And Cullen, it seemed, had understood. They had spoken privately, as Cassandra had already left to gather her things, and the others had various duties to attend to. At any rate, he had placed his hand briefly on her shoulder and told her to be careful before going off to do whatever it was he was meant to be doing. So Aleksander went to bathe before packing. Once she was packed, she went to speak to Varric and Solas and inform them they were leaving the in a few hours. Varric asked her how she was, and she truthfully admitted that she was still in shock. Solas had been kind to her, and she had conversed politely before excusing herself to change into her armor and check her weapon. She had decided to wear a heavier armor that she had forged herself, made out of the bones of her enemies. She carried a greatsword made from the same bones, and she hid daggers in both her boots, and only packed changes of the clothes she wore under her armor. She had no idea how long they would be in the Hinterlands, but when she stepped out of the small hut she had awoken in, Cassandra had horses saddled for all of them, with an extra one carrying their bedrolls and tents.

And then they were off, before Aleksander's hair had even dried.


	4. i will return to where i began

Some parts of the Hinterlands reminded Aleksander of Whiterun. The smell, the temperature, and even some of the people she met. I could just be homesick, she thought, as the party of four trudged down a worn dirt trail. Scout Harding had warned them that the fighting between the templars and mages was bad, and that a lot of innocent bystanders had been caught in the crossfire, so the group was wary. Every time a twig snapped, or a branch moved, or a stone rolled, their hands snapped to their weapons as if drawn by magnets. Most often it was just the wind, or the various non-hostile wildlife, but Aleksander wasn't willing to take any chances, and neither were the others. It was when they drew closer to the Crossroads where the refugees had set up, however, that they had been attacked by a motley group of templars and mages. The fighting was so thick that Aleksander could hardly tell which side was which. There was magic being hurled through the air, and the anti-magic the templars used, and still yet there were the arrows and swords slashing through the air from the Inquisition's forces. It could only be described as a bloodbath, and Alek was reluctant to join. At Cassandra's insistence, however, she swallowed her doubt and dove into the fray.

By the time it was over she was bruised and bloody. Her face had new cuts, thankfully shallow, and there was one rather deep one running along the gap between her gauntlets and cuirass. Her chest ached where a templar had slammed his shield into her, and if it weren't for the healing spell she'd let wash over her, she doubted she'd still be standing. Cassandra fared much the same, with a several more dings in her armor. Aleksander had discreetly sent a healing spell her way, as well. Solas had tried set up barriers to stop most of the magical damage coming at them during the fight, but even then they were left smelling faintly of fire, and Alek could still feel the ice spells deep in her joints. But they made it out with only shallow injuries and no casualties, and this put a faint smile on Aleksander's face. Victory was infectious.

That smile disappeared after talking with Mother Giselle. One of the refugees had directed Alek to the woman, and when she'd got there, the only advice she'd been given was to go to Val Royeaux and sow seeds of discord in what was left of the Chantry. Aleksander had been very polite to the woman, and Mother Giselle was even going back to Haven with them. But there was much going on in the Hinterlands, and Aleksander couldn't decide what to do. They needed more of a presence there. They needed more of presence everywhere and Alek had always hated playing diplomat. The Reaper War had been particularly trying for her, and at first she'd often made trips to the Citadel to visit Thane, and later she'd spent most of her time in Liara's office because Liara had never minded when Alek had curled up in the corner and done her own work. Now, Aleksander had nothing to keep her from losing her temper in Val Royeaux.

It was not a hard choice to stay in the Hinterlands for a few weeks more. There were rifts everywhere, and Scout Harding and her people had been unable to get to horsemaster Dennet, and the Inquisition did need better horses desperately. The refugees were starving, too, and freezing. So Aleksander and the others traipsed all over the region. They brought fresh meat and warm blankets to the refugees and sealed all the rifts they could, as well as doing various tasks for various people. The established multiple camps throughout the region, relatively safe places they could go to at night. Alek got little sleep, but then, she'd never gotten much, not since the first time she'd learned that her fate was to save the world. The circles under her eyes were a dark purple and seemed to haunt her across all her lives.

By the time they'd made it back to Haven to relay the news to Josephine, Leliana and Cullen; Aleksander had been run ragged. Her armor was filthy with crusted blood and sweat, even though she'd cleaned it every night, and so was she. The others had managed to stay mostly clean, but Cassandra had begun to get filthy too. The moment they got back to Haven, both women had gone for baths before meeting with the others. Alek even took the time to scrub her armor properly, along with her weapons, before she joined them in the war room.

There was something about the war room that reminded her of her days as a soldier. She'd been so proud to take up Jarl Ulfric's banner and fight for his cause, and she remembered early mornings and hot tea and standing over the war table with burning-tired eyes and endless strategies. She supposed that all war rooms must be relatively the same, with a map spread out and little markers dotting the surface of it, or maybe she was just nostalgic. Half the time she was bent over the war table, moving the markers around in a brilliant-to-her strategy, she'd look up and, for a second, expect to see Ulfric observing her with a faint smile crinkling the corners of his eyes and a deep interest in what she had to say. Instead, it was Cullen, with his shy smile and kind eyes, and she'd give him a ghost of a smile before continuing. She began insisting that they go to Skyrim from the moment she'd found out it was possible. She spread out her old map on the table, too, next to to larger ones of Ferelden and Orlais.

"We need to go to Val Royeaux," Cassandra protested. "Then we go to Val Royeaux first and then to Skyrim. You said it yourself, the Inquisition needs allies," Aleksander shot back. "What allies can Skyrim give us? They're still bleeding over the civil war," Cullen interjected. At the mention of the civil war, Aleksander drew herself up as tall as she could. "I fought and I bled and I won that civil war, thank you very much. Skyrim was well onto the path of recovery when I...when I left. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak had made me his top general, and at the very least he will send some of his men. Provided I am given sufficient time, we can also receive aid from the Companions, the Thieves Guild, and the Dark Brotherhood. Going to Skyrim would be very profitable," Aleksander had said. From what she had gathered it hadn't been long since she'd had access to, well, home. The Moot hadn't even met. "The Dark Brotherhood?" Leliana asked sharply. Aleksander had met the woman's gaze with one of her own. "Assassins," she had replied. "Who are they loyal to?" Leliana asks. Aleksander sighed, thumbing the edge of her gauntlet. "The Dark Brotherhood is, first and foremost, loyal to the Dread Father Sithis and the Night Mother. However, they're loyal to me, too, as the Listener. They're more than that, though, they're a family," she answered, with more than a touch of pride in her voice. "We do need allies. Though Skyrim is still healing, last we heard, perhaps she can be useful," Cullen had said, and Aleksander decided at that very moment that she liked Cullen. "Cassandra and I will travel to Val Royeaux with Varric and Solas. When we finish there, we will come back to Haven. I think that everyone here, save Leliana, should accompany me to Skyrim. Leliana should stay behind so we have someone in charge here, and also to keep in contact with her agents. If we're getting new soldiers, Cullen should get a look at them. They'll be his men, after all. And Josephine may be necessary to keep us out of a diplomatic incident later on."

In the end, they had agreed with her, and Aleksander couldn't wait for Val Royeaux to be long behind her. She ached to go back home.

* * *

 

Val Royeaux had not gone well, but at least it hadn't been as dull as she'd feared. The templars had simply left, leaving the citizens feeling defenseless, and Aleksander had assured the worried Chantry mothers that she was but a broken and lost woman wishing to make the world a better place. It hadn't hurt that she slipped them a couple of healing potions for the woman who'd gotten hit by the templars. There had been a merchant there wanting to help them, and she'd sent the woman to Haven after getting Cassandra's approval. She'd met another elf named Sera one night while still in the city. She'd been just strange enough for Aleksander to accept her offer to join the Inquisition, and so the blonde woman followed their rag-tag group around for the rest of their stay in Val Royeaux. First Enchanter Vivienne had also taken notice of Aleksander, and would be returning back to Haven with them. Altogether, it had been a been a fairly successful trip. They had indeed planted doubt amongst the Chantry mothers, and Aleksander was pleased to be back in Haven for one night before setting off again. Josephine had arranged for a ship to take them across the sea, and they would conveniently dock at Windhelm. Despite Alek's dislike of sea-travel, she had nearly insisted she pack for the others as it would go by quicker. Cullen had sent her to take out her energy on some of the training dummies littering the yard with a chuckle, and she'd done so. It had helped for awhile, but by the time they were all ready to leave, Aleksander was almost unbearable.

Cullen, at least, had seemed to understand. Windhelm was her home, and it had been too long since she'd seen it. A lifetime, she'd said, and they'd thought she was joking. She wasn't. It had been two lifetimes. Three, even.

But as she stepped onto the deck of the ship, she knew she was finally on her way home. She was reminded briefly of Tali, and of Rannoch, and Aleksander had a bittersweet smile on her face.


	5. i'll be as honest as you let me

Aleksander spent a total of twenty minutes on the ship before she began to hate it with every fiber of her being. From the moment she first stepped onto the rolling, rocking deck, she spent most of her time hanging over the edge of the ship with her stomach violently emptying itself into the water. Thankfully, the vessel was large, and she found a corner to curl up where she wasn't in the way of the sailors. Still, she was miserable, and she was confused too. She had never been so violently seasick before, and Aleksander wondered if she had lost something of herself. Cullen, Cassandra, and Josephine were all doing fine, too, leaving Aleksander alone in her misery. Josephine was even managing to do paperwork. Aleksander didn't know whether to admire her or hate her. Cassandra seemed to be avoiding her, too, or maybe she was just avoiding the vomit that seemed to be constantly spilled from her mouth. Cullen was the only one who came to talk to her, approaching hesitantly after Aleksander had long since been reduced to dry heaving. He pulled her hair back away from her face, his hand moving to rub soothing circles on the small of her back. She shot him a grateful glance before returning to hanging over the edge, her fingers curling around the damp and cold metal. "There's an old remedy the sailors were speaking of. They wondered how long they could keep it from you," Cullen murmured, running his fingers through the bright red of her hair.

"If they don't bring it to me soon, I will throw them overboard," she groaned, standing up slowly. Cullen's hand remained around her waist, as if he were ready to catch her. He chuckled, his hand still moving slowly through her hair. "I ordered them to bring it to you. You'll have it soon," he promised, and she curled against his side. "You might be my favorite," she murmured. Cullen laughed, a happy sound that Aleksander wanted to hear more of. Ten minutes later, and she had a steaming mug of warm and bitter tea. A few sips already began to ease the rolling ache in her stomach, and she insisted Cullen join her in her cabin. "What's the land like?" he asks, and it takes Alek a moment to realize he's asking about Skyrim. "Most people say that it is as cold and unforgiving as the people who live there," she answers, "but that's not true, in either instance." She stretches out on the cot, a blanket pooling around her waist. Cullen sits opposite her, looking at her attentively. "The plains of Whiterun are warm in the summer, and bitterly cold in the winter. The farmland is rich, and the city of Whiterun is the trading center of Skyrim. The people there are like the people anywhere else; varied. Some of them are perfectly friendly, and willing to help strangers, and others are some of the rudest people I've ever met. There was one man in Whiterun, Nazeem, oh by the Nine, I couldn't stand him. He was so arrogant. Skyrim, though, is a land of extremes. Windhelm is cold and unforgiving, and it's easy for even experienced travelers to get caught in the snowstorms and freeze to death. In the upper regions of Eastmarch, snow covers the ground year round. Farmers work the land throughout all the seasons, and they produce whatever crops they can. Although, if you know what you're doing, and have adequate supplies, the cold can make you feel alive. The people there are rougher, too. Most people prefer the warmer lands of Haafinger and Whiterun, where the people are more forgiving and so is the climate," she says, stopping suddenly. An ache beings to spread through her chest, sharp and painful, and she curls inwards. Cullen shuffles forwards on his knees, moving closer. He hesitated, then wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. She leaned into him, the vice-like grip on her heart loosening.

"What did you do, there?" he asked, and Aleksander almost choked on her tea. "That's a long story," she managed, sitting the warm cup down gently. "I have time," Cullen answered, and Alek's mouth turned up in a radiant smile. "You know how I'm supposed to save the world from the Breach? Well, saving the world has been a common occurrence, it seems. Have you heard of the legends of Alduin?" she asks, her finger tracing her forearm, where a jagged scar had once marred her skin. "Yes. There's a new story circulating about his defeat at the hands of the Dragonborn," Cullen murmured, glancing down at his lap. Aleksander grinned. "Well, there's no way to know if he's truly dead. I didn't get his soul," she replied, her smile turning into a smirk. "Are you trying to tell me that you're the Dragonborn of legend?" Cullen asked. "Yes, I suppose so," Aleksander murmured. "I know how you became the Herald, but how did you become the Dragonborn?" he asked, leaning forward, resting his chin on his hands.

So she told him the story of Helgen, and the story of a scared little girl who grew into a warrior. She told him how she refused to answer the call of the Greybeards at first, thinking that the priests must be wrong, because she wasn't anyone special. She told him about how she'd joined the Companions instead, and rose through the ranks there, adventuring all over Skyrim and completing jobs as she was given them. She fell in love with Windhelm when she saw it the first time, the snow sparkling on the rooftops, the bone-chilling cold. By the time she became Harbinger, the dragons had begun to seek her out, and she moved through Skyrim like a whirlwind. Somehow, she found herself in Riften, talking to a charismatic red-haired thief. She glossed over her criminal activities, instead weaving a story of Mercer's betrayal. She told him briefly about her time with the Dark Brotherhood, about how she was named Listener and how a betrayal that stung worse than Mercer's followed. It was only then that she heeded the call, and made her way to High Hrothgar. The trek was bitter and lonely, and it was only after Alduin was vanquished that Aleksander began to hope for something more. So she made the journey back to Windhelm, and joined Ulfric's cause. "He had a noble goal, I think, and he had the power to bring peace to Skyrim. He wanted to make me his Queen, but I still didn't think I was anyone special," she said, and then proceeded to tell him about the College of Winterhold. Cullen listened to the whole tale with rapt attention, and when she concluded, his eyes were sparkling. "Well," he said, a grin tugging the corners of his lips up, "it seems you were someone important after all." Aleksander grinned back. "If you think that was interesting, you should hear what happened after I died," she quipped.

A few hours later, Cullen retired to his own cabin. Aleksander spent much of the night worrying if she'd talked too much, but her fears were eased when Cullen came back the next day, and the day after that to hear more. She told him about her time with the Dawnguard, about the adventures she had when hunting Miraak, and she even told him about her life as Commander Shepard. He told her about life in Ferelden, about training to join the Templar Order, and one night he even told her about what had happened during the Blight, about how he had been taunted by Amell's face. Over the two month long journey on the sea, Alek spent more time with Cullen than she did alone. When it was sunny, they would sit on the deck, their backs braced against the railing. At night, she would berate herself. The butterflies in her stomach when she met Cullen's gaze were incessantly familiar, and even though Aleksander tried to force them away with thoughts of her bondmate and the daughter she surely had by then, Aleksander found herself slowly falling in love.

Aleksander Shepard had only ever fallen in love before when the end of the world was around the corner. She had no idea how to fall in love when it wasn't.


	6. there's an old man sitting on the throne

The ship docked at Windhelm just before dawn, but it was midmorning before Aleksander staggered onto the docks, the others trailing behind her. She had been on the deck of the ship long before the city had come upon the horizon, watching as they got closer with the cold wind tugging her hair. She was wearing a dress she'd had made in Solitude, one that she remembered Ulfric complimenting her on every time she wore it. Her pack had sat at her feet, and she wondered if anyone would recognize her. As they drew closer to the city, Alek leaned against the frosty metal railing, closed her eyes, and breathed in. The air smelled like snow and pine and most of all it smelled like home, and Aleksander reveled in it. The trio of advisors had joined on her on the deck just before they reached the docks, staring up at the city in silent awe. Two days ago, she'd drank three cups of the tea and sat in the dark belly of the ship, telling Cassandra, Cullen, and Josephine everything she could remember about Skyrim customs. "Forgive me if I leave anything out. It's been, well, two lifetimes since I've been here," she'd said, but she'd done her best to prepare them.

Alek wasn't surprised to see the Argonians working when they first stepped off the ship, the smooth stone rolling beneath her feet before Cullen caught her. Josephine had let out a small gasp of surprise when she first saw the beast folk, although she composed herself quickly. It was while Alek was getting used to the feeling of solid, unmoving stone beneath her feet that the first person recognized her, an Argonian woman who held her hands. "Aleksander? Is that really you? We thought you dead!" the woman croaked, her eyes full of warmth. "Shahvee? By the Nine, I've missed you," Aleksander managed before pulling the woman into a tight hug. Shahvee ran a hand through Alek's hair before releasing her. "Go into the city, dear. Ulfric would have me skinned if I kept you from him. He's…he's been mourning," she murmurs, pushing Aleksander gently in the directions of the gates. "I'll come back and see you again before we leave," Alek promises, before setting off, the advisors trailing after her.

"Dragonborn," one the guards greeted, nodding his head to her respectfully as he opened the gates. She dipped her head in return, slipping through the gates with a smile on her face, one that she couldn't get rid of, no matter how hard she tried. It was a long walk up to the Palace of the Kings, with various citizens and guards stopping to talk to her. She had to assure people several times that it really was her, despite the new scars and the new tattoo.

Some of the guards must have reported back to Ulfric, because when they arrived at the Palace, he was waiting for her in front of the long table in the main hall. He swept her up in a hug that almost choked her the second she was close enough, her pack clattering from her shoulders to land on the floor, and she hugged back with bone-crushing strength. "If you ever disappear on me like that again, Stormblade, I'll kill you myself and save the grief," he growled into her ear, blinking back tears. Aleksander buried her face in the fur of his cloak, tears of her own welling in her eyes. "I missed you too," she replies, her voice thick and muffled. He pulled back from the hug, keeping his hands on her arms, almost as if he were afraid she'd disappear again. "And just where were you? I'm not the only one that's been worried out of my mind about you. Galmar and I have been working ourselves to death trying to keep the Dominion from finding out you were…gone," he says, his voice trailing off at the end. Upon looking at him closely, Aleksander noticed how old Ulfric looked, how tired and worn. She wondered guiltily if it was because she'd disappeared, because she had died.

A servant came over, then, taking her cloak and her pack, along with those of her companions, and disappeared, murmuring that he was taking the advisors' things to their rooms, and hers to Hjerim. "Well, my Jarl, I died. Three different times. It's a long story, though, and you probably won't even believe me," she said, flashing him that smile she gave whenever she had done something she knew he wouldn't approve of. Ulfric raised his eyebrows at her, reluctantly letting her go to cross his arms in front of his chest. "And what happened after that?" he asked her, very carefully. She shrugged casually, leaning one hip against the table. She was short enough that she could pull that off, now. "I got better," she answered, giving him a smirk. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, and then the doors to the Palace opened again.

Before Alek could react, a very angry woman stalked over to her, her fist connecting with Alek's jaw before pulling her into a hug. The whole exchange left her reeling, and it was a moment before she realized that it was Serana who had her arms around her, and Aleksander hugged her back, burying her face in the crook of Serana's neck as she took several deep breaths. "If you ever leave me like this again, you won't get off so easy," the other woman whispered, sniffling a little. "I never wanted to leave, trust me," Aleksander remarked, pulling back and tucking a strand of hair behind Serana's ear. She straightened the woman's armor, too, and left her hands resting on her shoulders.

It was a moment before she realized that the others were still present. She let go of Serana and turned to Ulfric again, nervously crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You know of Thedas, yes?" she asked, tilting her head and looking up at him. He merely nodded in response, waiting for her to continue. "Well, there's a massive hole in the sky above it raining down demons. We call it the Breach," she says, and then Ulfric interrupts her. "Yes, I know of the Breach. What of it?" he asks. "The gods sent me to fix it, and to do that, I need your help," she explains. "Perhaps this should be moved into the war room," Ulfric suggests lightly, and Aleksander nods. She glances at Serana, whose lips were pressed into a hard line. She understands immediately. She'd changed. Physically, of course, but there had been so many things that she had gone through without Serana by her side. She was older, now, smarter, too. Better with tactics. She'd taken down the Collectors and the Reapers, and she knew she was in for a long talk with the raven-haired woman later. But for now, she just shot her a glance that promised they could talk later, and followed Ulfric into the war room.

Cullen was the only one who followed her. Josephine and Cassandra were escorted to their rooms by Jorleif. They were to stay in guest rooms at the palace, which Aleksander supposed was very convenient for any lengthy negotiations. The heavy wooden door fell shut behind Cullen, and she passed casual orders to a guard to keep any minor disturbances away. When she turned to face Ulfric, he'd leaned up against the wall, and was looking at her in a way that seemed to calculate what her next moved might be. "What is it you need, Stormblade?" he asked, his tone pleasant and polite. His posture was casual, but the look in his eyes was anything but. "I need soldiers. We've declared an Inquisition to seal the Breach, but we need allies and soldiers before people will take us seriously. The Chantry is already heavily resistant, and the mages and Templars are too caught up in their own conflict to worry about anything else," she said, leaning over the table. Cullen stood off to the side, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword. "I can't do that," Ulfric said, staring at her levelly.

"Oh?" Aleksander asked, standing up and moving around the table gracefully. She propped herself up against it, stretching out, and crossing her arms. She mirrored his pose, and she'd expected his answer. "The Dominion is still a threat. They've begun to gather forces off of Skyrim's shores. The Moot still hasn't met, but that won't keep the damned elves at bay. I need my men to protect my country," Ulfric answered. "What happened to 'keep your brother, and he'll keep you'? I went above and beyond my duty to you, my Jarl. I gave a large portion of my life to your cause. I sent my people to help you when you needed it. They had no obligation to help you, and they probably shouldn't have, but because I asked them too, they fought for you, and some of them died for you. The Inquisition will grow, with or without your assistance. But if you contribute to our cause, then by the gods, Ulfric, I'll fight another war for you when the time comes. If the Dominion dares to attack, you'll have my blade and my Voice, but I need your help to seal the Breach. I only want a few of your troops. You recruited so many under my banner that that won't weaken your forces," she said, her eyes soft as she looked up at him. They went around in circles for a few hours, arguing about the possibilities.

"When the Moot puts that crown on your head, Ulfric, remember that I'm the one who made it possible," she'd finally said, and with that he'd conceded. "A fifth of my men, and nothing more," he'd said, and she'd nodded her acceptance of the terms, shaking his hand. She and Cullen departed then, with a promise from Aleksander to answer any questions he had over supper. He'd sent her and Cullen away then, and when they'd finally exited into the main hall, it was empty aside from Jorleif. Outside, a snowstorm had begun, the winds howling around the corners of the city, and the snow was nearly blinding. Aleksander shivered even as she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders, drawing it tightly around her body. "Join me. We can have a snack and maybe a drink before he expects us back," she offered, and Cullen accepted with a smile. "That'd be nice," he replies, and she smiles back at him almost stupidly for a moment. "Stay close to me. It's easy to get lost in Windhelm on a good day for newcomers, and with the snow…well, just stay close to me," she warned, and then the Palace doors opened and they were swept outside.

She was grateful that her housecarl kept a fire going as she stepped into the foyer, taking off her cloak and shaking snowflakes out of her hair. "That's one of the worst storms I've ever seen," she admits, taking Cullen's cloak as well and hanging it next to hers. "Would you like a drink? I have ale and water. Oh, and some wine," she says, moving into the kitchen and grabbing two cups from the cabinets. "Wine, please," Cullen said, standing awkwardly in the doorway as she bustled about, grabbing a bottle of Spiced Wine from Solitude and filling both their cups, handing one to him with a smile. She took a sip of hers, tilting her head back and closing her eyes as she swished it around in her mouth, savoring the taste. It had been a very long time since she'd drank any sort of alcohol that tasted decent. She'd had her fair share of ryncol, but that had been bitter and left her with the worst hangover of her life. "I'll, uh, show you around," she says, embarrassed, after Cullen clears his throat. He smirks, following after her as she moved further into the house.

She'd split the main room downstairs into two parts before she'd disappeared. She used one as a general living area, and the other was the dining area. She showed him the empty children's room, too. "I did sort of adopt an orphan girl named Sofie. She was homeless, living in the cold, and while I was never around, my housecarl was. I think she and Calder both went to the tavern for supper," she told him, and then showed him the enchanting room hidden behind the wardrobe. He had seemed impressed by that, and he was even more impressed by the armory upstairs. "I made these two sets myself," she said, gesturing to the daedric set and the dragonscale set. "The craftsmanship is extraordinary. I've never seen its equal," Cullen breathed, his fingers skimming over the daedric armor. He seemed transfixed by the red glow it emitted, and Alek felt her ears turn equally red. "Thank you. I worked hard on both of these sets, although the gods know I didn't need them," she said, a small smile turning the corners of her lips up. She owned more armor than any individual person would ever need, and maybe she had a problem, but she certainly had the means to afford it. She had an impressive collection of armor. "Perhaps we could take some back to Haven, and let the smiths look them over. They might be able to design some schematics based on them," Cullen suggested. "Even if they can't, they could refit some of them to our top generals," Aleksander added, and Cullen had given her a soft, slow smile that did something funny to her insides. She thought about Liara again, but she couldn't make herself feel guilty.

She showed him where Calder's room was, and hers, and she showed him the washrooms. He vanished inside the last one and she made her way back downstairs. She seated herself comfortably in one of the armchairs by the fire, sipping her wine as she waited. He joined her a few moments later, awkwardly settling into the armchair across from her. "So, this is your home," he murmured, and she couldn't tell whether he meant the house, or Windhelm. "Yes," she answered anyway, "although it's been a long time since I've been able to call it that." She stared into her mug, the fire crackling a few feet away. "I only came back to Fereldan a few months ago, myself," Cullen remarked, and Aleksander realized that for all he knew about her, she hardly knew anything about him. So while the fire burned low and the storm raged on, she sat and she learned about him. He skirted away from the topic of what had happened in the Ferelden Circle, and she respected that. She hadn't wanted to talk about Akuze, either. She couldn't, however, resist asking him about vows of celibacy when he began talking about the Templar order. He had turned as red as her hair, and it was on that note that they left, Aleksander laughing all the way to the Palace of the Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to my friend who helped me write the last part of this chapter! I honestly wasn't sure where to take it after Alek got drunk but my friend help me out v much and I am very grateful. 
> 
> I promise the next chapter won't be serious either so I hope you enjoy it


	7. and i'll fall in love with you

"All right, Stormblade, time to 'fess up. You're din' have all those tattoos a'fore," Ulfric slurred after his forth or tenth drink. Aleksander had refused to be outdone, and had matched him drink for drink. They were both feeling the effects now. "Verrrrry observant," she answers, a lopsided grin on her face. It had been a long time since she'd relaxed, refraining from it for obvious reasons during the Reaper War. Now, all they had left to do was wait in Skyrim for a few months until the loose ends were tied up and they had a considerable amount of allies. "You didn't used to have 'em, though. Why'd you get 'em?" Ulfric prodded, a touch of a whine in his voice. "It was a night like tonight. Only, not really, cause it was like noon and it wasn't snowing and we were in space. But we were all drunk then," Alek answered, before dissolved in a set of giggles. "She's a very fun drunk," Serana whispered, leaning closer to Cullen. He cracked a smile before returning his gaze back to Alek and Ulfric.

"You didn't used to have all them scars on your face, either," Ulfric says, reaching across the table to trace his fingers along them. "Stooooop! That tickles," Alek protests, leaning away from him. She nearly tumbles off the bench, and would have, if Cullen didn't catch her. She turned her attention to him, a slow smile spreading across her face. "My hero!" she called out, patting him clumsily on the shoulder. She'd meant to pat him on the top of the head. "Yer supposed to be the hero," Ulfric said, trying to be stern, but the two of them dissolved in giggles once more, Aleksander leaning heavily on Cullen, who buried his face in his hands. "I think now would be a good time for bed," he said, resurfacing.

Ulfric squinted suspiciously at Cullen before bellowing for his steward. Jorleif, to his credit, simply helped the bear of a man stand and led him upstairs. "I don't wanna go out in the cold," she murmured petulantly. "You don't have a choice," Cullen said gently, swinging his legs off of the bench. "Do so have a choice," she shot back, stretching and arching her back like a cat. Cullen glanced at Serana helplessly, but the vampire offered no assistance. Aleksander stood on her own, or, at least, she attempted to. She nearly hit the floor again, and, once more, Cullen caught her. "All right, that's it," he said, scooping her up in her arms. "Where'd the floor go?" Alek asks, mildly alarmed. Cullen looked to Serana again, about to ask her for help, but all she did was smirk and fasten his cloak around his shoulders. "No, seriously, where did the floor go? It was right here! Cullen! I think the Aldmeri Dominion stole my floor! Because it was right here," Alek said, her voice going up a few octaves in her panic.

Serana draped Alek's coat over her like a blanket, going so far as to tuck it in and give Cullen a little wave. Cassandra opened the giant doors for them, and all Cullen could do was narrow his eyes because his hands were full of a very drunk Aleksander Shepard. "Damn bastards in the Dominion, thinking they can get away with stealing my floor! They won't get away with this!" she howled. Cassandra was laughing when Cullen slipped outside, and Alek immediately shut up about the floor. "Oh, wow, the sky's s'pretty," she murmurs, tilting her head back to stare up at it. "Yes, it is," Cullen agreed, wondering how in the Void he'd managed to end up carrying the Herald of Andraste back to a house he wasn't sure how to get back to.

"Hey, Cullen! Let's go 'venturing. I won't let you take an arrow to the knee like all them stupid guards," she suggests, snuggling closer to him. "Why don't we go on an adventure to find your house? How does that sound?" he asks, desperately hoping she'd give him some sort of instructions to go on. "Jus' follow the bloooood. Das how I found it the first time." she said, drawing out the last word and looking up at him in a way that made him what to squirm. He looked at her, confusion and horror coloring his expression, before she seemed to remember something. "Wait! Nevermind! Jorleif cleaned that up. Can't follow the blood now. Just find the one that this key fits," she says, pulling one out of her pocket. Her fingers fumbled, dropping the key, and it skidded across the ground to disappear into a snow bank. She looked utterly crestfallen, and then brightened as a thought came to her.

"Forget that, then. We can go 'venturing! We can stab things, 'n it'll be fun!" she said. If Cullen had his hands free, he might have buried his face in them. "Like the Forsworn! Let's go hunt some Forsworn!" she continued, oblivious to his suffering. "Maker's balls, just help me find your house," he pleaded, heading down an alley at random. It looked familiar, but, of course, all the alleys in this Maker-damned city looked the same. A man was in this alleyway, and Aleksander must have somehow recognized him, because she tried to push herself out of Cullen's arms. "Hey, stupid! A hundred septims says I can beat you back where you came from…again!" she screams. Cullen flinched, but tightened his hold around her. He was mostly confident that she couldn't get away from him. "I don't envy you right now, sir," the man said, laughing as he leaned casually against the cold stone wall.

"Please, help me, serah. She dragged me out her to help her with negotiations and I just really want to get her home right now," Cullen said, almost desperately. Aleksander was heavy, and he was tired and cold and lost. The man smirked at Cullen. "Then go home with her, kinsman. She doesn't seem to be protesting. And the Dragonborn is certainly a mighty fine catch," Rolff Stone-Fist answered, a twinkle in his eye. Cullen tried very hard to be polite. "I am trying to find her house," he ground out. "I told you to juss' follow the bloooood," Alek pipes up. "Please, Alek, for the love of the Maker, shut up," Cullen begged. I'm surprised she hasn't cut your tongue out for that," Rolff said. Alek just laughed, curling into Cullen's embrace. "He gets special permission," she stage-whispered, as if it were some secret. Cullen might have teared up a little. The wind was bitter cold, the sky looked like it might start snowing again, he was lost, and he just wanted to get inside and lay Aleksander down before trying his best to fall asleep in front of the fire. There was no way in the Void he'd be able to make it back to the Palace of the Kings tonight.

Rolff finally took pity on the commander and led him through the twisting maze of stone alleys to Alek's house, departing as soon as he pointed it out. Cullen had never been so glad to see a single building in his entire life, even though he was left alone with Alek once more, and when Cullen tried to open the door, it had been locked. This left him to try to awkwardly pat her down while he still held her, and she pressed herself even closer, running her fingertips along his collarbone. "Whatcha lookin' for, Cullen?" she asked, a wicked grin her face. "A spare key to your house, Aleksander, because you dropped yours earlier, and the door is locked," he said, trying to explain patiently. "Oh. I never got a spare key made," she answered, and Cullen wanted to scream.

He resorted to the only thing left; he started kicking the door. Alek had mentioned a housecarl and an adopted daughter; maybe one of them would be woken by the noise he was making and come open the door for them. Several minutes later, a young girl opened the door, her eyes bleary. She was perhaps twelve or thirteen, at most, with long blonde hair, and a soft robe draped over her. "Who the fuck are you?" she snarled. Aleksander leaned over Cullen's arms, causing him to almost drop her. "That's my girl!" she called out, and the girl smiled. It must have been Sofie, the orphan she had mentioned, and she thankfully stepped back to allow Cullen entry. He thanked her profusely as she shut the door and locked it once more, and when she turned and made her way back to her bedroom, he went up the stairs, the wood creaking under his boots. He felt bad for waking her, but, then, he was hauling Aleksander's drunk ass home, so he didn't feel too bad.

Finally, he was able to ease her down gently onto the bed. He moved down to her feet and removed her boots, depositing them at the foot of the coatrack and hanging up her cloak. He removed his own cloak and boats, shucking out of his armor, before he went over to pull the blanket around her and tuck her in. "Don't go," she pleaded, reaching out to catch his wrist, and Cullen froze. He had no idea how to get himself out of this situation. He liked Aleksander, but it seemed wrong to take action on those feelings when she was this intoxicated. "Alek, are you sure you want me to stay? I mean, think about what the others will say," he said, his tone soft and gentle. She pulled him down onto the bed, curling her body around his. "Let them talk. I'll lead them on a wild goose chase on the city and let them get lost. I like you, Cullen. I like you a lot," she murmured, tilting her head back to look up at him. She tugged on him, trying to get him in the bed properly. She had a drunk grin on her face, and she was so adorable that Cullen didn't know what to do. She leaned up, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips before snuggling back into the blankets, pulling him further onto the bed and wrapping her arms around his middle. He sighed and gave in, doing his best to get comfortable, because she was very determined not to let him go.


	8. home is where the heart is

Cullen, to his credit, did not flinch the next morning when a human-like blur pounced on the bed the next morning. It was early, he knew, and pale winter morning sunlight was filtering through the curtains on the windows, which had been pulled back. For a moment, he was confused, and then he remembered carrying Alek home and being pulled into her bed the previous night. "Goooood morning, sunshine," Serana yelled, and Aleksander, to her credit, hadn't let out a scream when she was suddenly torn from sleep with an aching head an two people in her bed that didn't belong there. She burrowed into the chest of the one who was quiet, away from the sunlight, and she was very confused because that person felt remarkably like Commander Cullen. She let out a groan when the noisy person shifted to the side, allowing her to peep her head up and take stock of her surroundings. The person she was pressed up against was Cullen, and she felt a deep sense of dread that was lightened when she noted how they were both clothed and the only thing that hurt was her head. That left her with more questions than answers, and she was surprised to discover that the other person was Serana.

"Fuuck," Alek groaned, burying her face in Cullen's chest again. She felt more than heard his chuckle, and the blankets shifted around them. "No, no, no. You do not get to roll over and go back to sleep. I was sleepless for so long because you had me worried sick about you, so you are going to suffer today," the vampire yelled. In Alek's ear. The woman flinched and let out a long, low moan, curling closer to Cullen as if the Commander would provide a protective barrier from the vampire. She still wasn't sure how he ended up in her bed, but when his arms moved up to wrap around her, she wasn't unhappy with the development, despite the fact that the man himself was smirking because it served her right for all he'd endured trying to get her home. "You know, I really, really hate you sometimes," Alek complained, shifting to frown at Serana. The furs and blankets were tangled around her waist now, and she was dimly aware of how hard it would be to kick her way out of it.

"No you don't, you love me," Serana answered with a laugh. "Then if you return the sentiment get the hell out of here and let me get my bearings," Alek barked, nudging the vampire affectionately. Serana rolled her eyes, making eye contact with Cullen. "If she goes back to sleep again, it's on your head," she threatened vaguely, a grin on her face as she swung off the bed. She closed the door gently behind her, vanishing downstairs. Alek and Cullen lay in silence for a few moments before he gently let go of her. She turned on her side to face him, tucking her arm under her head to use as a pillow. "Before you leave me to wallow in my misery as I make myself presentable…what exactly happened last night? It's all a blur," she asked, biting her lip. Cullen smiled fondly at her, reaching up and pushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"You insisted on matching the Jarl drink for drink. You got really drunk, but you didn't do anything too embarrassing. I'm the only one who saw. You did insist that I stay with you," he answered, chuckling. She let out a groan, rolling over and burying her face in her pillow. Cullen scooted closer to her, wrapping one arm around her and pulling her close. "I did get a confession of love from you," he teased. She dimly remembered everything he described, and she groaned again. When she finally raised her head, her face was red. "I am so sorry," she blurted out, but she noted that his face was red too. He grinned at her good-naturedly. "No offence was taken, although I'm curious as to whether or not you meant it." They're both as red as her hair and it's all Alek can do to squeak out an affirmative, but the slow smile that spreads across Cullen's face when she does is totally worth it.

She sits up, yanking the blankets off of them, and he follows her. "So, uh, does this mean we go from her?" she asks, a soft-scared smile thinning her lips as her heart thuds a staccato beat in her chest as she looks down, rubbing the back of her neck. "Well, I mean, if you want," Cullen answered, suddenly very interested in his fingers. "Uh, yeah, I think I would. If you would, that is," Aleksander answers, risking a glance up. "I think I'd like that a lot," Cullen murmurs, and Aleksander's smile could light up the whole house. This, she thinks, is what falling in love is like. "Well, this makes me feel a lot better about the entire situation," she says, her eyes twinkling. Cullen smiled awkwardly, taking her hands in his, and tracing his thumb over scars on her knuckles.

"I suppose we should, in the immediate future, get cleaned up. I mean, I stink like a brewery, and you'd probably like to change into some clean clothes of your own," Alek murmurs nervously. Cullen couldn't argue with her and stood to go, brushing a kiss over her hand. He saw himself out as she went through her bathing ritual, scrubbing the stench of alcohol off of her skin. When she was dressed and read to go, her ears were still burning from the whole interaction with Cullen, and she could still feel his lips pressed against her hand. She pulled her favorite cloak tighter around herself even as her ears burned hotter, and she stepped out into the streets.

During the night, someone had come around and shoveled the snow out of the streets, leaving piled against the walls. She navigated the twisting turns of Windhelm effortlessly, and reached the palace with cheeks flushed from the cold. She had downed a stamina potion that had helped a little, but the light still hurt her eyes and her head still throbbed, and the doors to the palace were still far too loud when they shut behind her. It stung her pride a little less when she saw Ulfric having a similar reaction, slumped over the table with his head cradled in his hands. Cassandra and Josephine were sitting at the table, a little farther down, looking unusually smug as a servant took Alek's cloak and hung it by the door.

"What are you two grinning about?" she asked bitterly, slumping down next to them. Cassandra smirked at them, her lips pulled back in a predatory grin. "Only that Cullen came slinking back an hour and a half ago," Josephine teased, and Alek buried her reddening face in her arms again. She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "I hate you both." Ulfric's head raised up. "At least you don't have to run a city like this," he groaned. Serana chose to enter the palace then, the doors slamming loudly behind her, and Alek and Ulfric both moaned, the two of them clutching at their heads. The vampire was cheerful, annoyingly so, as she went to stand directly behind the Dragonborn. "I think our guests should be shown around the city today," she suggested, her voiced magnified in the too-large space. "Yes, I think that would be a wonderful idea," Cassandra agreed, a grin turning the corners of her lips upwards. "Fine. Go get your damn coats," she growled, and Cassandra and Josephine scrambled to do so. As they were fastening the cloaks around their shoulders, Cullen came down the stairs, looking really really nice to Aleksander's tired eyes. He hesitated a moment before crossing the room to stand next to her, his arm encircling her shoulders. She leaned into the touch with a smile.

"Perhaps you should take a trip to the Grey Quarter," Serana suggested lightly, a glint in her orange eyes. Aleksander brightened. "Perhaps, to see the improvements. And if none were made, I may have to voice my displeasure over this lack of development. Loudly," she said, shooting a threatening glare at Ulfric. He waved her off, and Alek chuckled as she fastened her own cloak.

She showed them the city, Serana trailing along and pointing out any changes that had occurred since Alek had been gone. The Grey Quarter had been improved quite a lot, and was undergoing quite a few more major improvements. It was no longer falling apart, and it was much cleaner. Argonians were permitted within the city, but most of them still lived on the docks. The city, however, was full. After the war, citizens from all over Skyrim had flocked the Eastmarch believing that Ulfric and the city's stone walls could provide protection. People like Rolff, natives to Windhelm, harassed the non-Nords of the city, and while the guards and several of the citizens tried to stop it, they weren't completely effective.

By the time they finished traipsing over the entire city, they were all quite hungry, so Alek led them back home. The table was certainly large enough, and she had enough food. Once more, her housecarl was out along with the child she'd adopted. They'd seen the two of them in the market on the way home, and it hadn't seemed like they'd be coming home any time soon. While everyone arranged themselves comfortably in her home, Aleksander bustled about the kitchen, almost domestically. She had gotten good at cooking, back on Mindoir, and the memories sent a wave of nostalgia through her chest that ached. She had sweet rolls in the oven, a stew boiling above the fire, and when she finally sat back down, she did so reluctantly because she didn't have much to do. Serana had begun telling a few of the more embarrassing stories about Alek during the time she'd known her, and had just finished the one about how she'd once woken a Dwemer centurion by walking into it in Blackreach.

"You think that's bad? You should hear what I did once on the Presidium," Alek said, settling into an armchair, a grin on her face. "Oh, do tell," said Josephine, shifting forward. "There was a bar on the Citadel, and it was one of the fancy ones. It was nothing like Purgatory where Aria had set herself up. She'd have never let me do anything like this. It was during the Reaper War and I was…stressed. The bartender was an asari matriarch, mean and crass and rude. I'd given the entire crew shore leave, too, and move of them were there, so they all saw me make a fool of myself. The matriarch's name was Aethyta, and she talked me into trying ryncol. I'd had it once before on a bender when I'd died about a year and a half before, but I was already drunk as a skunk and that did a pretty good job of padding the way for anything that came after. Now, if a human has too much of that shit, it'll liquefy your insides, and that damned matriarch knew it. All the fancy tech that had gone into rebuilding me kept me from turning to mush, though, so she figured I'd be fine.

"I had two glasses of that, got up on the bar, and made a general fool of myself in front of her. I pulled Liara up there with me, later, and kissed her in front of everyone. Grabbed her ass, too, and all the while that matriarch was alternating between giving me the death glare and cheering me on. I didn't find out until later that Aethyta was Liara's father," I explained, shifting closer to Cullen as everyone laughed, varying expressions of horror on their faces. It was an amusing story, and while Aethyta had been angry at the time, she was only angry because I'd been so drunk. "If you puke on my daughter, Shepard, I'll beat you to death with your own spine, savior of the galaxy or not," she'd threatened.

They ate a hearty lunch, and Serana took Josephine and Cassandra to the markets, promising to get them back to the palace safely. Aleksander lent them a few hundred septims, waving off their promise to pay her back, and then she and Cullen went about cleaning up the dishes from their lunch. It felt entirely domestic, but not entirely new, and she was reminded of times on the Normandy and early mornings with burning tired eyes in the mess hall. When Cullen's arms wrapped around her waist from behind, she was reminded of Liara and the final days and running without ever catching, so she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and sat down to write some letters.

She wrote one to Vilkas, Acting Harbinger in her absence; one to Babette, who left the Sanctuary more than the others; one to both Brynjolf and Karliah who were both far too good at hiding in the shadows for their own good; one to the College of Winterhold as a whole as them to send as many master mages as they could spare, explaining as much of the situation as she could; and she wrote several addressed to the various mercenaries she'd met and grown to trust in her travels. Marcurio in Riften, Vorstag in Markarth, Jenassa in Whiterun, and Hoth in Morthal. By the time she finished her letters, her hand ached and her head hurt far worse than it had this morning, but she was satisfied.

"That should earn us a few allies," she sighed, scooting her chair back and rubbing her aching hand. Cullen walked over, rubbing her shoulders. She a shudder raced down her spine and she leaned into the touch. "Will they all join us?" he asked, his voice husky with sleep. It had gotten quite late while she had written. "Some of the mercenaries might not if they have prior commitments, but the others will, I've no doubts," she answers, a pleasant rumble beginning in low in her chest as his hands knead her back. Calder and Sofie had returned long ago, politely speaking only a few words to Aleksander and Cullen before disappearing in their own rooms and leaving them be. The two of them were effectively alone.

"I suppose I should be getting back to the palace," Cullen says, his hands stilling on her shoulders, although he doesn't pull away. "You could stay here tonight," she suggests biting her lip. "There'll be talk," he answered awkwardly, hesitantly. "There'll always be talk. If you don't want to, that's okay though," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. "I…think I will, although tomorrow I should bring a change of clothing over," he said, a soft smile on his face. She stood, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs. She'd send out the letters tomorrow by courier, and pay extra coin to make sure they got there fast.

They undressed in shy silence, removing only their boots and outermost clothing before curling up together underneath the furs. Alek was out like a light, exhausted, and Cullen followed soon after.


	9. after time adrift

The Dark Brotherhood were the first to respond to the letters sent out, arriving in Windhelm a week later. Nazir and a woman who had joined long after Alek had left were the ones who responded, and they responded in a manner typical of the Brotherhood: by cornering her in a dark alley late at night, a blade held to her throat to ascertain whether it was really her or not. "For the record, I'm sorry I left. It wasn't by choice on my part," Alek said, her voice as smooth as melting butter, once the woman's hold on the knife had relaxed just enough for Alek to feel safe again. "I know it wasn't," Nazir answered, and after that, Aleksander had invited them into her home and served them drinks. She was introduced to the woman, a pretty redguard with dark skin and darker hair, and a face covered in delicate tattoos and scars that weren't so delicate. Her eyes held a predatory gleam that reminded her of Astrid, and the girl's name was Mist. They talked at length about nothing before Nazir finally brought up the question that was on all their minds.

"Why did you call us here, sister?" he asked, settling back into his chair. "I need your help. I need the help of the entire family," she answered, pushing herself out of her chair and moving to stand pensively by the window. The shadows flickered and danced, and she focused on them rather than the conversation at hand. "We're your family. What do you need us for, sister?" he asked. She let out a bitter laugh, curling her arms around herself as she turned to face him. "There's a hole in the sky back in Thedas that demons are pouring out of. There's a mark on my hand that's trying to kill me, and I'm the only one who can mend the sky. I need allies. And…you're my family," she said, trying very hard not to sound lost and scared. "We'll help, of course. That was never in question. I'll return to the Sanctuary and tell the others. I'll have to keep a few here in Skyrim to go out and fulfill contracts; can't have them thinking the Brotherhood has gone again, but when I get back to Dawnstar I'll decide who'll come back to Windhelm," Nazir answers. "I want Cicero, at least, if you can spare him," she says.

By morning, no one knows the Brotherhood had even visited.

*

Brynjolf and Karliah arrive a week after Nazir and Mist leave. They, too, arrive under the cover of darkness, sneaking into her house. They woke her and Cullen up, and she was only thankful she'd insisted he hang his sword up on the weapon rack like a civilized man, or Bryn or Karliah might have gotten stabbed. They swore at each other, and then they piled into a hug that left Cullen feeling left out. In their line of work, people went missing, but the Guild was a tight-knit family and they missed each other when one disappeared suddenly. She and Cullen explained the situation back in Thedas to them, and Bryn promises to send the entire Guild to help her, profits be damned. "This will piss Maven off," Karliah warns. "Then, by all means, please continue," Aleksander says, a shit-eating grin on her face. Brynjolf laughs, clinking his glass with hers, and does. Brynjolf would journey back to Riften alone and gather the others, and make the journey to Thedas. Karliah would stay.

*

Josephine was perfectly polite when she met Karliah, but Cassandra wasn't. She pulled Aleksander aside, within easy earshot of the elf. "Is it wise to have a thief like her watch our backs?" she asked. "I trust Karliah with my life. As I should, since she's saved it so many times, the first when she didn't even know me. I understand why you wouldn't trust her, but I ask that you give her a chance," Aleksander asked calmly. Serana, however, was happy to see the Dunmer again.

*

"Dragonborn, there's been signs of trouble in the barrow nearby. Do you think…?" the citizen trailed off, wary. "Of course. I'll take care of it," she answered. "Karliah, with me. Serana, take care of anyone else that shows up," Aleksander said, armoring and arming herself. The barrow was only an hour away. She'd passed it many times, and it was one of the few that she had never actually gone inside. She and Karliah spent the next three hours after their arrival sneaking through, killing every draugr that moved. In the deepest corner of the barrow, they found a necromancer. Aleksander put an arrow through his heart before he'd turned around to notice them. She returned, smelling of death and decay, with an arrow in her leg, but otherwise unharmed.

*

Jenassa arrived next, with Vilkas and Farkas. She explained the situation to them, and then another letter had to be written asking for a few of the younger members. "What about that Telvanni wizard on the gods-forsaken island?" Jenassa asked. "Shit, I should have thought of him," Aleksander said, dragging a hand through her hair. "Another ally?" Josephine asked, perking up. "Perhaps. But I'm not getting on another godsdamned boat to ask. Josephine, if you want to go, I'll send you with Jenassa. She's familiar with his ways and far better than I am. Serana can accompany you. Offer him free reign to study the Breach and demons or whatever else his heart may desire," Alek said, passing over the coin required for the passage.

*

The next day, mages from the College of Winterhold arrived, and Aleksander and Cassandra began sending some of their allies back to Thedas. "Go to Haven when you arrive," were the instructions given, Alek's from a chair as she shifted around grumpily. Cullen refused to let her rise until her leg was moderately more healed.

*

After he allowed her to be up and about once more, she took him outside the city, her gun holstered at her side. "This is a weapon. I want you to see it. You'll shit yourself," she said, a grin on her face. Twenty minutes away from the city's closest house, they were surrounded by a vast whiteness, broken only by a few scraggly trees. Cullen took a deep breath, the cold driving into his lungs. "It's beautiful out here," he said, his words forming a white cloud in the air. "It is. I…I think that's why I made it my home," Aleksander answered, crossing her arms. Her hair hung loosely under her hat. "I wish I could see more of Skyrim," Cullen said, mimicking her pose. Her eyes lit up. "Perhaps you can. We're scheduled to be here for another month," she said. They talked for a few more moments about the possibility before Cullen drew her attention back to the gun. Her grin returned, and she raised it, pointing it at the ground a few feet ahead of them. She held it like it was an extension of her arm, a part of her, and she supposed for as long as she'd fought with the damn thing it may as well have been.

She fired, snow spraying up around the impact point, and Cullen's hands covered his ears as he swore. "I should have warned you about that," she said, clicking the safety on in the sudden stillness of the world. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. She grinned, gently passing him the gun, standing beside him. He held it like one would expect someone to hold a loaded gun; almost reverently, because it was a weapon that could go off at any time. She flitted around him, adjusting his stance and aim. "Are you ready?" she asked, and when he nodded she clicked the safety off. Her fingers curled around his, but they pressed the trigger on his term, the gunshot going off like an explosion, causing Cullen to swear again.

"Maker, are all your weapons so loud?" he grumbled. She smirked, clicked the safety on again and holstered the gun safely. "Some are louder," she answered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He looked at her suspiciously, but he said nothing.

*

Cassandra thought it a brilliant plan that they see more of Skyrim before heading back to Thedas. Vilkas and Farkas were to stay behind in case Josephine returned and inform her of their location, and Aleksander took off with Cass and Cullen trailing behind her, hiring a carriage to Markarth. "We're not going to have a lot of time to sightsee, but perhaps you can appreciate some of the landscape," she said, smiling apologetically.

They took a tour of the major cities, stopping only when they had to. Cullen appreciated the rugged mountains of the Reach, and Cassandra preferred the rolling plains of Whiterun. Aleksander, however, was almost intoxicated from being home. More than once, Cullen had to catch her when she almost fell out of the wagon from craning her neck back too far. They made it back to Windhelm a few weeks after Josephine returned, and two weeks before they were due to return to Thedas. Aleksander was in the best spirits anyone had seen her in. Add that to the good report that Josie had, and even Neloth's curmudgeonly behavior couldn't dampen her mood.

*

They day before they were due to leave, Aleksander disappeared onto the roof of the Palace of the Kings. She sat there alone until the sun went down, watching the city go on with its life beneath her. She would miss it even more, she thought, knowing that it was across the sea. Cicero joined her late into the evening, a bowl of hot stew and a bottle of ale, and he sat silently. He was a good at that, knowing what she needed. He always had been. She scooted closer to him, leeching his body heat, resting her head on his shoulder. "If…If something happens to me, Cicero, make sure I come back to Skyrim," she says, her voice thick. He'd nodded like the good Keeper he was, and that was that.

*

She was up well before dawn the next morning, bright and early in the Palace, her pack at her feet as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. The others surrounded her, eating quietly, Ulfric on one side and Galmar on the other. All too soon, even that was over, and it was time to make their way down to the docks. She approached Ulfric, her stomach tied in knots. "Take care of yourself, yeah? And keep in touch as best you can. After we reach Haven, Leliana will send agents. Use them if anything urgent arises. They can get in touch quicker. Just…take care of yourself. You're not young anymore," she said, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrapped around her lithe frame, lifting her off the ground.

"You take care of yourself, too, Stormblade. If I find out you've gone and gotten yourself killed again, well, I'll bring you back to life just so I can kill you," he says, his voice thick as he buries his face in her hair. She buried her face in his cloak and willed herself not to cry. A few tears escaped regardless, but by the time she emerged and turned to Galmar, she had composed herself. She clasped his forearm, the man's grip like a vice. "You take care of him, Stone-Fist. I don't think he can do it himself," she said, a watery grin on her face. She sniffled, and a smile broke across his face as well. "Aye, and maybe your Templar can keep you out of trouble, too. Gods knows you can't," he answered, pulling her into a gentle hug. Minutes later, they were on the ship's deck, beginning the process of leaving the city.


	10. i have loved the stars too fondly

"We should do some serious catching up," Serana said, sprawling out in one of the chairs in Aleksander's cabin. Alek was curled up in one of the others, eerily reminiscent of a cat. "I've changed a lot. Maybe completely. Hell, there's no maybe about it," Aleksander said, her wide yellow-green eyes regarding the vampire carefully. "Tell me what happened," Serana said, carefully. "Well, first, it was bandits. I'd taken a bounty out in Whiterun. I killed them all, of course, as usual, but one of them got me. The wound was…I didn't recover. I died in a dusty crypt, and then I woke up on another planet called Mindoir. I lived an entire other life," she began, and so she sat down and told Serana things she hadn't even told Liara. The asari had only seen pieces of these memories through the meld, and while it was hard to talk about the batarian raid and even harder to talk about Elysium, Aleksander did. She told her about chasing Saren through the galaxy and chasing Liara, and the asari's polite refusal of her advances. She told her of the epic final battle with Sovereign on the Citadel, of dying and waking two years later in a Cerberus facility, and of the fight with the Collectors. She told her about Thane and how she almost fell in love with him, because Liara was still resistant to the idea of a romance, even though she'd have given her all the stars in the sky. She told her about how she bided her time, gathering a team and resources, building a veritable army before she attacked the Collector base, and helped T'Soni become the new Shadow Broker. The two had shared a kiss, then, and Shepard had turned herself in a few weeks later. She glossed over most of her time in captivity, mostly because it was just dull and uninteresting, and then picked back up with the Reaper invasion. The story of the Reaper War began in earnest, then, and so did the story of Aleksander and Liara. The story, like most others, didn't end happily. Serana was, well, she wasn't surprised, and she was only slightly surprised when Aleksander told her how she woke up in the same place as last time and was brought back. "I lived another life with these nobles in Ostwick," she said, and that was that. Serana knew more about Thedas than she did the stars.

"You don't think you're a hero anymore, do you?" Serana asked, a small, sad smile on her face. "I don't know if I ever was one," Aleksander answered, trying to keep the bitterness out of her tone. She was not entirely successful. "So, tell me more about Thane and Liara," Serana said, and Aleksander shifted so that she was leaning towards her friend. "Right before the battle, the final push towards Earth…Liara, well, she wanted something in case things went sideways. So she mapped my DNA. I have a daughter. Somewhere," Aleksander said, dragging her fingers through her hair. "That's…well, shit," Serana answered, sitting forward. She was momentarily stunned because that meant Commander Aleksander Shepard, Dragonborn and Herald of Andraste, was a father, even if she would never see her daughter.

Aleksander lasted a record time before she was curled over the railing, shivering and dry heaving. She heard heavy footsteps and turned, expecting Cullen, but was surprised to see Cassandra instead, carrying a cup of the bitter brew of tea. Aleksander expressed her gratitude between sips, and Cassandra settled herself a safe distance from the elf. "You said once that you didn't believe you were the Herald. Does that mean you also don't believe in the Maker?" the other woman asked, and Aleksander froze. She had danced lightly around the topic of religion with everyone since the first time she had died, aside from deeply involved discussed with Thane where they compared their deities and religious practices. She almost never talked about the Divines, and when she wore their amulets, she always did so under her clothes or armor. "Well, I don't want to offend you," Aleksander said hesitantly, her fingers curled tightly around the mug. "I asked because I want to know, Alek. Do not worry about offending me," Cassandra assured her, a smile on her face. Aleksander shifted, curling into a more comfortable position against the railing. The cold metal still bit into her back, but it was less severe than before.

"I am not to say what gods are real or not, but the short answers is no, that I do not," she answered. "And the long answer?" Cassandra asked, raising an elegant eyebrow. "I believe in my own gods. I could tell you about them if you like," she answered, a soft smile on her face as she sipped on her tea. She almost enjoyed the bitter taste now. Cassandra gave her a smile in return, rising to her feet. "I would enjoy that, but I think the others would too. Perhaps over our evening meal?" she suggested. Aleksander made a low noise of approval in her throat, and watched Cassandra's form retreat across the deck. Cullen approached, then, looking sheepish. "I wanted to bring you your tea, but Cass insisted she do," he mumbled, sinking down next to her. Aleksander curled up against his side, trying to leech warmth and comfort from him. "And you let her take over like that?" she asked, finally giving up and crawling into his lap. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. "She's very scary when she begins insisting things," he answers, pressing a kiss to her temple. She let out a sound that was almost a purr and burrowed into him.

Later that evening, they all took their evening meal in Aleksander's cabin. Serana was absent, sleeping away the day, and Alek was pressed against Cullen's side, staring at the creases on his sleeves because the food made her stomach twist. She'd forgotten just how much she hated boats. "So, Aleksander, I heard you promised to tell us about Skyrim's native religion over our meal," Josephine said, flashing a dazzling smile her way. Aleksander forced herself to sit up a little straighter, taking a sip of water before answering. She told them of the Aedra, of Talos and the fight over his godhood. She told them of the other Eight Divines, and then she told them of the seventeen Daedric Princes, most notably the ones she had met. She told them some of the basic lore, and how Akatosh was the one who gifted her with the dovah sos, the dragon blood that made her Dragonborn. She told them about the sprawling realm of Apocrypha, of the night she'd taken on a drinking contest with Sanguine and woken up on the other side of Skyrim. "Do you worship the Princes, or the Divines?" Cullen asked, rubbing soothing circles on her thigh as she tried to stomach some of the food. "I don't worship them in a traditional sense, no, but I have met quite a few of them, and should they call on me, I do what they require," she answers. She tells them little about Sithis, the entity that is the terror of midnight and the cold of space.

"I know him intimately. I died in space, once. I was trying to get to the evac shuttles, and I didn't make it in time. A blast knocked me out into the void. Something was wrong with my suit, too, and I…suffocated. I had nightmares about it, for a time. I, have, however, loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night," she said, a wry grin on her face. . The conversation moves on then, and Aleksander manages to eat most of her food. That night, she curls onto her cot with Cullen, making herself as small as possible so they could both fit. She wondered, laying there, half in her dreams, if she had room for one more god amongst hers.


	11. d o v a h k i i n

Leliana had taken care of quite a few things while they had been gone, recruiting several new members, such as The Iron Bull and his mercenary band. Aleksander respected the Qunari immediately, and he seemed to respect her as well. The spymaster had also managed to recruit a Grey Warden who went by the name of Blackwall, a respectable man that got along well with Aleksander and even better with Vilkas and Farkas. It took Aleksander a few weeks to settle comfortably into a routine, spending her mornings with her advisors locked in the war room, bent over the war table and sending their agents and soldiers out. She would eat a quick meal and then make rounds and speak with everyone; some of the conversations quite lengthy. Karliah was getting on quite well with Sera, despite the latter's brash comments on the former's race. "I've faced much worse in Skyrim. Ignorance no longer bothers me," the Dunmer told her, and Aleksander felt her heart tear a little. Vilkas and Farkas spent quite a lot of their spare time training with Cullen and the Inquisition's soldiers. They knew quite a few techniques that were common in Skyrim, but mostly unknown in Thedas, and so they passed them on to the recruits. Aela spent her time roaming the wilderness surrounding Haven, hunting and picking up resources valuable to the Inquisition. Aleksander could rarely find her, but when she did, she and the woman had lengthy conversations. Jenassa spent her time in a dark corner of the tavern, and Serana spent her time conversing with the various members they had picked up as well.

She had been back two weeks when the deals she had set up began to arrive. The Guild was first, bringing along Delvin, Vex, Rune, Etienne, and Thrynn. Marcurio arrived with them, as cocky as ever until he pulled Aleksander into a hug that drove the breath from her. "Try not to die on me again," he whispered in her ear, and it was only after he let go of her that she realized the Brotherhood had arrived on the same ship. She scurried about frantically for two days, trying to find places to put everyone, and she was still doing so when Ralof's men arrived. She almost cried when she saw the sheer amount of blue and silver uniforms, and Josephine along with her. She and her advisors were running themselves ragged trying to keep everyone out of the cold, and Haven was full to the bursting. Eventually, though, they got everyone settled, whether it be in tents or in makeshift houses that had been sprung up last-minute.

After she'd had a moment to breathe, Aleksander made the decision to go after the rebel mages in Redcliffe. Solas had been pushing for them, and she trusted his council. For the first time after her return to Haven, she was going to venture back out into Thedas. She was nervous, but she had friends at her back. She had decided to take Cassandra, Serana, Vilkas, Mist, and Solas, and sent word ahead to Redcliffe to let Bann Teagan know that she was there for allies and not for war. There was much to do to prepare to leave, and the blacksmith wanted to see her for lessons on how to make some of the armor she had brought back from Skyrim. She didn't have access to all the materials she did back in Skyrim, but she did what she could.

All they had left to do was saddle the horses when the dragon attacked, landing in the middle of the training yard. Luckily, it was meal time, and the soldiers were off eating instead of training. Aleksander simply considered it fortunate that she was out there saying farewell to Cullen. She had enough time to order the men to retreat before the dragon spoke to her. "Dovahkiin, Zu'u lost bo wah jur hi," it said, its voice snaking over her skin, and Aleksander froze, her blood going cold. "Cullen, do me a favor," she said, her voice soft and sweet. "Yes, dear?" he said, warily. "Don't interfere. Get back, and keep the soldiers back," she says, then pauses, considering, "and have someone go get the Iron Bull." He hesitates, but ultimately he does as she wishes, backing away slowly as she faces down the dragon.

"Are you sure you wish to challenge me?" she asks the dovah, a dangerous edge to her tone. She was glad she'd already strapped her weapons to her back. Facing down a dragon with only her Voice and her magic was a Bad Idea that resulted in injuries that left terrible scars. "You do not even know our tongue well enough to speak it, yet you claim you could best me?" the dragon says, conceit dripping from its tone. "Zu'u mindok hin tinvok pruzah ganog. Hi fund dreh pruzah wah forgen faazrot zey. Pruz wey hi lost unt wah viik zey ahrk funt. Zu'u krii Alduin ahrk Zu'u fen krii hi waan hi fahbo nau daar ven," she answered, her hands drifting towards the hilt of her sword. "Grik pahlok nol joor. Hi los nahl nau bodiis tiid," it answered, and a flash of anger went through her. "The only borrowed time is yours," she snarled, and unsheathed her sword. Suddenly, Bull and Serana were by her sides. "How we doing this battle, boss?" Bull asked. "Follow our lead," Serana answered, and a ball of fire came hurtling at them. They dove aside, scattered, and then all three rushed the dragon from different sides.

Serana pops up, peppering the beast with spells wherever she can hit it, and Bull yells something in qunlat before swinging his axe. Aleksander lets out a roar and charges the dragon's side, ripping through one of the leathery wings. The dragon lets out a screech of anger, turning around and knocking her aside. She rolls to her feet and springs back into action, just in time to see Bull sink his axe into the dragon's hind leg. It's more an indignity than anything else, she knows, but it gives her an opening to jump onto the dragon's back, climbing carefully and gracefully onto its head. She'd done this a thousand times. This was no different. She let out a yowl and jumped up, driving the point of her sword in between its eyes. Her weight drives the blade down, through brain and bone, and she grits her teeth and holds on as the dragon enters its death throes.

She jumps off as the dragon stills, her knees hitting the snow as the soul begins to gather around her. It calls to the other souls within her, and they clamor, calling out. The world around her goes white, and then black as her eyes goes shut. All she can feel is the warm bliss of the soul as it heals her, but something feels wrong. It is consuming her, she thinks, for a moment, and it feels almost like the beam of the Crucible, the sharp green light. Then the memories come, flooding her head and teasing her. She is flying over twinkling spires dedicated to her, she is killing whatever she wants whenever she feels like it, and she is powerful and she is proud, and she is a creature to be worshipped and feared.

She came back to herself with a sob, and it took her a moment to realize there were arms wrapped around her, and a body pressed against her side, holding her up. She let out a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimpered and forced her eyes open, lifting her head. The world shifted and blurred before her, settling moments later when her eyes focused on Cullen, his concern practically radiating off of him. "I'm okay," she whispered, sagging against him, and he looked relieved. She supposed he was just happy that she knew who and where she was and was well enough to speak. A crowd was beginning to gather, she realized, when she looked over his shoulder, resting her cheek on the soft fur of his cloak. "What happened?" he asked. "I took its soul," she answered wearily, her breathing still ragged. "I'll ask later," was all she got in response, and she nodded. The world no longer shifted sickeningly around her, which she took as a sign of improvement, so she nodded at Cullen again and he helped her stand, keeping his arm around her.

Cassandra had come out sometime, and was at the head of the crowd, trying to calm them. "Serana! Make sure someone keeps the bones and scales!" Aleksander called out as the Iron Bull cleared a path through the crowd for her. Cullen carried more of her weight than she'd like, and her legs were weak and shaky. They felt like jelly. She'd felt stronger standing on Citadel, limping towards the Crucible. "Seeker Cassandra, I would ask that we delay our departure for another day. I…will need to clean myself and my armor, and take some time to recover," Aleksander said, turning to the woman just as she passed her. Cassandra merely nodded, reaching out a comfortingly hand to brush along Alek's shoulder. "I'll inform the others." The Iron Bull was, however, exceptionally wonderful at clearing a path through a crowd. Cullen steered her gently towards the one-room shack she'd been given, and as they approached, Mist slipped out of it. "There's a hot bath for you in there, Listener," the woman said, and Aleksander almost cried in relief. "Thank you," she said, instead, and then they were inside, the door closing behind them and shutting out the rest of the town.

Cullen kept a steadying arm around her even as he worked to undo the buckles and straps on her armor. "You know, this isn't how I imagined it would be when you undressed me for the first time," she joked, licking her lips. She regretted it immediately when she tasted the metallic bitterness of dragon blood. "Is now really the best time to make jokes?" Cullen asked, although he couldn't hide his smile. "You may have a point," she agreed, wobbling a little as he stepped back, letting the armor fall to the floor with a clatter. Her hands were shaking at this point, and as she struggled to pull off her undershirt, Cullen's hands came over hers. "Let me help," he said, softly, and she stood still and let him undress her before she stumbled over to the bath, sinking in up to her neck. Cullen stood awkwardly for a moment as she went about the suddenly laborious process of bathing.

"Are you all right?" he asked eventually, as she began washing the now-drying blood out of her hair. "Yes. No. I don't know," she answered. He walks over, kneeling next to the tub, and cups her cheek. "Let me help," he murmurs, and she nods, leaning into his touch. He sheds his cloak and armor, pushes his sleeves up, helping her lean back. His fingers work through her hair, rinsing out the suds from the shampoo. When he brings her back up, he presses a kiss to her forehead, smiling. "Come on, let's get you out of that water," he says, grabbing a towel from the table nearby. It's far fluffier than most of the other towels, soft and warm, and it reminds her of the towels they had on the Normandy, not at all like the rough, scratchy ones she'd had to suffer with back in Skyrim. He keeps his eyes steadfastly on the wall above her head as he wraps the towel around her shoulders. She dries herself off a little, wringing the water out of her hair, and then she pulls him into a hug. "You're the best," she says, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

He lifts her, backing up to the edge of the bed and sitting down softly. "I'm not, but thank you," he answers, and she can hear the grin in his voice. She lets out a soft purr, snuggling against him. "It's never been like that before. Taking a soul has always been…invigorating. It's like…it's pleasure. Pure pleasure, and this was…it wasn't. It has never left me weak before, and I'm still shaking. I don't know why," she says, after a few moments of silence. "Perhaps it's because you've died. It's been, what, two deaths since you've taken a soul?" he suggests. She nods, thinking he may be right, and then settles back against him. They stay like that until her stomach rumbles loud enough for Cullen to hear, and then they both laugh. She slides off his lap, the towel falling to the floor. His face turns red, then, and she laughs, leaning down to kiss him.

"Does this really embarrass you?" she asks, a lopsided grin on her face. "Well," he answers, shifting on the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't let it. There's nothing wrong with nudity. That, and being a soldier made me let go of most of my modesty," she said, pulling on her underclothes. They'd escaped the shower of blood, and thus were clean, and she pulled on a warm set of clothes from the trunk at the foot of her bed. "Now, let's go get something to eat," she says, as Cullen pulls his cloak around his shoulders. They walk to the tavern, hand in hand, and she feels a little stronger already. After they eat, Cullen goes to his own quarters to take care of some things, and Aleksander returns to hers, and sets about the task of cleaning her armor. Cullen joins her, eventually, and it is late when she finally goes to sleep, her legs tangled with his, her arm thrown over his chest, and her head tucked under his chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Translations:
> 
> "Dovahkiin, Zu'u lost bo wah jur hi." = "Dragonborn, I have come to challenge you."
> 
> "Zu'u mindok hin tinvok pruzah ganog. Hi fund dreh pruzah wah forgen faazrot zey. Pruz wey hi lost unt wah viik zey ahrk funt. Zu'u krii Alduin ahrk Zu'u fen krii hi waan hi fahbo nau daar ven." = "I know your language well enough. You would do well to refrain from insulting me. Better than you have tried and failed to defeat me. I killed Alduin, and I will kill you if you continue along this path."
> 
> "Grik pahlok nol joor. Hi los nahl nau bodiis tiid." = "Such arrogance from a mortal. You are living on borrowed time."


	12. mosiac broken hearts

Aleksander Shepard had seen a lot of horrors in her lives. She'd been a soldier twice and fought the Reapers once, and she remembered Mindoir vividly, but this…this was almost like someone had stabbed her in the chest and carved out her lungs. She was no stranger to time magic, having seen the way the Elder Scrolls worked, especially the one that had sent Alduin adrift. This, however, was almost more than she could handle, standing knee-deep in dirty, stagnant water in the dungeons of Redcliffe Castle,. Red lyrium was growing out of the walls out and out of friends, and gods, it was growing out of Cullen. They were dead and dying around her, and she felt as utterly helpless as she had that day at Helgen, with her hands bound as a dragon soared above.

"You died," Cullen whispered, a rasp to his voice that hadn't been there before, and Aleksander could almost feel the pain he had gone through. "No, Cullen, I didn't die. I was just sent forward in time," she said, crouching down in the murky water. She fumbled with a lockpick, glancing over her shoulder and sniffing back tears. Mist was in the cell across from Cullen, and the girl was very nearly dead, her shallow breaths the only sign that she hadn't passed into the Void yet. Aleksander shut down her tears, focusing on her anger. When she found Alexius, she was going to put a fist through his chest. Now, however, she fumbled around until the lockpick broke, and then pulled on the door. To her surprise, with a great shriek of the metal, it came loose. She flung it away, and it landed with a great clatter. Her heart nearly broke in the resounding silence when Cullen reached for her, the lyrium dancing under his skin. "Take care of the other doors," she says over her shoulder, before stepping forward, her hands reaching up to curl gently around Cullen. "It hurts," he whispers as she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He tastes like blood and lyrium and desperation, and she's not sure if he's talking about the lyrium infection or her death or both, but his arms encircle her and he lets out a strangled moan of pain. She forgot completely about Dorian in that moment, because she should have been there, if not to prevent this, then to stand with them, with Cullen, so they would not have had to suffer alone.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't here," she says, a sharp keen in the undercurrent of her voice, resting her forehead against his. "You're here now," he said, and something in Aleksander broke at the absolute trust he placed in her. She had disappeared for a year, gone from time, only to appear as the world was falling apart and everyone was dying, and he still thought she could save them. Tears break and swell from the corners of her eyes, and she can't stifle a sob when Cullen reaches up and brushes them away. He has tears in his own eyes, but they are tears of hope and joy, and Aleksander is lost. She was a healer first, a soldier second, and so she sets to work, cutting at the lyrium with a clinical touch, healing magic pouring into Cullen until she is almost exhausted. Dorian works as best as he can behind her, getting the others out. By the time they finish, Cullen is sweaty and pale from the pain, but his life is prolonged. Mist was dead by the time Aleksander got to her, gone to the Void and Sithis, and Vilkas had died long before they had shown back up in time. Everyone else was alive, if only barely, and she did what she could to get them in fighting condition. "I am so sorry," she kept whispering, a furious mantra.

The further they went into the nightmarish future, the angrier she got. When she found Alexius, she was going to rip him apart with her bare hands. These had been good people, people who did not deserve this, and he had damned them in service to his Elder One. She fought with a cold anger, one that mirrored the way she had fought on the streets of London. They found Leliana, the other woman possessing an anger that matched Aleksander's own, and they shared a nod. She was surrounded by the dead and the dying, and she reaped like an angel of death. She tore her enemies apart with her sword and her Voice and her biotics. "You will not have them," she snarled, once, when a demon got too close to Serana and Cullen, and the shockwave she sent towards the demon obliterated it. She could almost hear Wrex in the back of her mind, asking if she was part krogan, and her vicious grin glinted in the dull light of the fade rift. She was Commander Shepard again, fighting against impossible odds, and part of her loved it.

She gathered the pieces of the lyrium key among the broken and bloody bodies of her enemies, passing them along to Dorian. "Keep them safe," she ordered, giving him a stiff nod as she began to lead the way back to the main hall. When they returned, she held up her hand to stop Dorian from fitting the key together. Alexius was behind that door. If she died here, or if Dorian did, they were all doomed to this fate. "Alexius is behind that door," she said, her voice filling the main hall. Speeches were not new to her. She'd been giving them since she'd start rising in rank in the Rebellion. "And he knows we're coming. He tried to kill me once, erase me from time for his Elder One, and look where that got him. He knows we're coming, so he's going to be prepared. But nothing can prepare him for us. We're going to march into that throne room, and we're going to take back your lives and all of Thedas!" she says, adjusting the grip on her sword.

Leliana hung back, having no interest in saying goodbyes. The spymaster was there to bring death to the enemy, and that was a purpose Aleksander could respect, so she pulled Serana into a hug that threatened to cut off the other woman's air supply. "I suppose this isn't too bad of a last stand," Serana said, trying to sound airy. She choked on her tears, ruining the image, but Aleksander gave her a watery smile and clasped Solas' forearm gently. "It was never supposed to end like this," Solas says, sadness radiating off of him. "I can't think of a situation that is," she comments, trying to sound light, but she can't. He gives her a faint smile, and then Cassandra is there, pulling her into a hug, their armor clinking against each other. "I could think of no better end," Cassandra says solemnly, gripping her forearm. Aleksander swallows heavily, nods her agreement, and turns to Cullen. She pulls him into a kiss, careful to be gentle, and tries to convey everything she feels into the gesture. When she pulls back, she takes a moment to compose herself before she nods to Dorian. He fits the key into the lock, and then she kicks open the door.

Alexius, of course, was waiting for her at the far end of the hall. She crossed the room in seconds, surrounded by the ethereal blue of her biotics, stopping just a few feet from him. She stalked forward, the blue barrier crackling around him, an energy that made Alexius' hair stand on end. "You bastard," she snarled, and her fist connected with his jaw, sending him stumbling backwards. When he straightened again, he let out a cry, and Alek followed his gaze to where Leliana stood, holding a boy so tainted by the Blight that he was barely clinging to life. It was Felix, but it was not the Felix she had known, and she understood. "You did this to save your son," she said quietly. "I just wanted to save him," Alexius replied. Aleksander understood, but the fucker had gone after her people to do it, and he would not survive this encounter. She met Leliana's eyes over the crumpled and broken man between them. "Kill him quickly, Leliana. No one deserves to have to live like that," she said, and Alexius let out a moan, reaching for his son. The spymaster dragged her knife across Felix's throat, and the body thumped to the ground.

Alexius turned back to Aleksander, murder in his eyes. "That was my son," he shouted, and began the work of casting a spell. She hit him with a simple spell of her own, almost lazily, before stalking around him, a huntress in every right. "You do not know what I am capable of," she hisses, her hands on the daggers hidden in her boots. He begins to cast again, and Aleksander sinks a dagger into his shoulder. He lets out what can only be described as a yowl, and an ice spell hits her directly in the chest. Her heart stutters in her chest and her lungs scream, and while she is distracted, Alexius lashes out, kicking her backwards. She stumbles, nearly falling, but catches herself at the last moment. She glows with biotics again and stalks forward, and her next punch is supplemented with a metric fuck ton of biotic force, knocking him to the floor effortlessly. She kneels and snaps his neck painlessly, ripping his amulet off his neck and prying his fingers from his staff before tossing them to Dorian. "Work the spell. We haven't much time," she orders.

He sets to work immediately and she settles back to watch him, guarding the doors with the other one. Dorian is nearly done, and she starts to think they have done it, walked into hell and came back out alive, when she hears heavy sounds and screeching. "The Elder One," Leliana confirms, and dread blossoms in her stomach. "We'll provide a distraction for you," Serana says, and Aleksander wants to scream. She counts to ten, lets out a deep breath, and nods. "I love you," she chokes out, and then they're gone, taking up positions, and Dorian is yanking Aleksander into the spot where she needs to stand.

When the demons burst into the room, Serana was dead first, a sword through the heart, and Cullen followed seconds later. Aleksander let out a guttural scream as Leliana began firing arrows and Solas started casting spells, and she almost surged forward, but Dorian had a firm grip on the back of her armor. "You move, and we all die here," he screams, and instead she turns away, unable to watch them die for her. Seconds later, she was sucked through a vortex of swirling magic, and everything was as it should be.

Thus, everyone was thoroughly confused by Aleksander's sudden anger, and the blue energy that surrounded her. She flung Alexius across the room with it, a snarl ripped from her throat. "You killed them," she said, her chest heaving. A knife was in her hand, suddenly, and she was not sure where it came from. She was only sure that she was poised over him, ready to sink into his chest, when the doors of the room burst open, and a furious Alistair stormed in. She froze, knife poised over Alexius, before swearing violently. She let it fall, sinking it into the sheath at her hip, and she forced the barrier around her to dissipate. She cleared her throat, turning to face Ferelden's king. "I mean no disrespect to you, your Majesty, but I must insist that the mages come with me. It is up to them whether or not I am forced to conscript them, but the Inquisition needs them to seal the Breach," she says, her voice both professional and frosty at the same time. She notices a smile playing across the King's face, barely held back, and she suddenly has to hold one of her own back. "We would be grateful to be your allies, Herald," Fiona says, dipping her head respectfully. Aleksander notices the look that the elf gives to Alistair, but she says nothing, only bowing to Alistair. "Then I will be going. The mages will follow as soon as they've gathered their things. I am truly sorry for what they have done," Aleksander says, and then she strides out of the throne room, Alistair's bemused gaze on the back of her head.


	13. if the sky comes falling down for you, there's nothing in this world i wouldn't do

When she got to Haven, Aleksander sought out Cullen immediately. She’d made peace with seeing the others die already, she’d reassured herself of their continued survival. He was easy to find, waiting for her outside of the Chantry; Leliana’s scouts having sent word ahead, and Aleksander marched up to him and kissed him. Hard. In front of everyone. There were some whistles in the crowd, some disapproved murmurs, but she didn’t care. “I saw you die,” she whispered, her arms around his neck. “We should probably talk,” he responds, and she nods, forcing herself to step back. She was still rattled by the experience, more so than she would admit. She slipped her fingers through his and began walking towards the peaceful dark of the Chantry. “Cassandra will round up Leliana and Josephine. Perhaps we should meet them in the war room,” she said, forcing herself to breathe steadily. Duty called, and it had always kept her grounded before. Cullen simple nodded and lead the way, his fingers linked with hers. If he noticed how hard she gripped his hand, he didn’t say anything. 

“What happened in Redcliffe?” he asked as they walked. She stopped, leaning against one of the pillars in the cool dark of the Chantry, with it’s silence so peaceful that it was almost strange. “A lot of things,” she answered softly, and she reached out to hold Cullen’s other hand with her free one, the one that glowed and sparked with the mark. He took it gently, and he stood closer to her than necessity dictated. “It was magic, unlike anything I’d ever expect to see here,” she answered, and she let her head fall back. “What kind of magic was it? Have you seen it other places?” he asks, worriedly, but he almost seemed like he was afraid of the answer. Aleksander let out a dry, bitter laugh. “A Tevinter magister sent me forward in time. I’ve seen something like this before, back in Skyrim, although this was done with the help of an elder scroll. I can talk more about that in the War Room, it might give us an idea of what to expect,” she said, and maybe some of her grief seeps into her voice. “What happened in this future?” Cullen asked, stepping even closer. “Perhaps that’s best discussed in the war room, but by the gods it was terrible,” she whispered, and Cullen pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in the soft fur on his cloak and breathes in his scent. “I watched you die. I watched all of you die, and that’s something you never get used to, watching your friends die,” she murmured. “We’re not dead. We’re here, and it’ll be okay,” Cullen murmured, and she nodded, curling against him for a long moment before she pulled back with a deep, steadying breath. “The others will be waiting for us by now. We should go join them,” she said, and when he nodded his agreement, she led the rest of the way to the war room, brushing her hair out of her face and tucking her braid behind her ear. 

Cassandra, Josephine, and Leliana were indeed waiting for them, and Aleksander walked over to the table before leaning over it, spreading her hands over the worn edges of the map. “That magister sent me forward in time,” she began, “and although this is not the first time I’ve seen time magic, it was much more rattling than any I’d seen before. Alexius was raving about an Elder One, some sort of god in his eyes. I reappeared in time a year after he cast his spell, and while I was gone the Elder One murdered Empress Celene and sent a demon army in. When I reappeared in the dungeons with Dorian, all of you were either dead or dying, and later the Elder One’s army killed the rest. I…it never gets easier, watching friends die, but this was a warning. We know the Elder One’s plans. We can seal the Breach, save the Empress, and stop him from creating his demon army. It’s not the kind of warning I’d prefer, but it’s a warning we can use, and if I have any say, we’ll use it to the best of our advantage,” she continued, looking up at the rest of them. 

“You said you’d seen time magic before. Where? What was it like?” Leliana asked, and she, too, leaning over the war table. Aleksander’s gaze met the spymaster, and she gave her a feral grin. “In Skyrim. There are artifacts known only as Elder Scrolls. They are fragments of the creation of the world, and they are objects outside of time itself. Long ago, when Alduin first ruled over Skyrim, there were three heroes who used one such scroll to cast Alduin adrift in time. When Alduin reemerged, centuries later, it was my duty as Dragonborn to stop him. In order to do so, I had to find the Elder Scroll those heroes used, read it at the Time Wound that it caused, and find out what Shout they had used. It was…concerning, then, to think that something had enough power to send a god adrift in time, but what happened in Redcliffe was so much worse,” she murmured. 

“How can we stop this Elder One?” Josephine asked. “We have soldiers of our own, and if I return to Skyrim, I can campaign. They seem to remember when someone saves the world, and more will flock to us,” she answers. “We need to focus on the Breach first,” Cassandra pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then we close the Breach tomorrow. There are rifts all over Thedas, but perhaps by sealing the Breach, a few of them will close as well. If they don’t, then I’ll go around and close them personally. Then we focus on Empress Celene, and after that I can campaign back in Skyrim,” she said. She was already weary at the prospect of the work that would come. “And how do you plan to save the Empress?” Cullen asked. “My friends are also assassins, and if I have to, I’ll place them as the Empress’s personal bodyguard. Even if they give their lives, it will be done willingly. As Listener, my word is law for the Brotherhood,” she answered, and her eyes darkened. “Can you give the order knowing they might die?” Leliana asked, although not unkindly. 

Aleksander pushed herself off the war table, and she clasped her hands behind her back. “Being in command means giving orders knowing that your men might die. It is not a pleasant situation, and it never gets easier, but it is a situation that I have been in several times. I know what to do, and I know it must be done. I have never been one to shirk my duty just because it was unpleasant. I was made a Council Spectre because I was willing to make the hard choices when no one else was,” she says, and she can feel the approval from Leliana and Cassandra. Aleksander supposed that the two of them had been in similar situations. There was no dancing around the truth; men died, wars were lost, and wars were won. The best commanders could find ways to win the war and keep their men alive. Good commanders understood that sometimes it was necessary to sacrifice some of their men. Bad commanders? Bad commanders let sentimentality get in the way. Aleksander had been a very bad commander once, when she was young and dressed in blue. That was a mistake that she’d learned to rectify fast after joining the Alliance. 

“Do you have plans to seal the Breach, Herald?” Cassandra asked, shaking Aleksander out of her thoughts. “I will have the mages focus their power into the mark. If that doesn’t work, then I…can get up higher, closer to the Breach. It’ll be dangerous, but I’ve been in danger since I walked out of the Fade,” she answered briskly. “Do I even want to know?” Cullen asked with a slight sigh. “Probably not, dear,” she replied, and he shook his head with a fond smile on his face. “Aleksander, are you sure you’re prepared? We have no idea what closing the Breach could do to you,” Leliana says. She paused, taking another deep breath, and ran her fingers through her hair. It was still tangled and messy from traveling, and she hadn’t stopped to rest of clean herself up before going to find Cullen. “I am prepared. If it kills me, well, it won’t be the first time. I’ll speak to Captain Ralof in the event that it does. He knows how to preform the proper rites, although if the gods are willing, that won’t be necessary,” she answered.

* * *

“Ralof, can we talk?” Aleksander asks. It was dusk, nearly dark, and she was wearing her heavy cloak, drawn tight around her. Despite it, she was still cold as she stood next to the fire. “What is it, Stormblade?” he asked, looking up from his meal as she settled next to him. “We plan to seal the Breach tomorrow,” she tells him. His knee bumps gently against hers, and he grins. “Saving the world again, eh?” he asks. She grinned back. “Of course. If I don’t do it, no one else will,” she responded, although there was a certain sadness in her eyes. “There must be something wrong, if you’re talking to a mere soldier such as myself,” he teased, although the question behind his words was serious. “A mere soldier that’s hauled my ass out of the fire more times than I can count,” she retorted, and Ralof laughed, nudging her gently. 

“I just…I don’t know what closing the Breach will do to me,” she finally said, after a few seconds of watching the flickering flames in silence. Ralof turned to look at her, but he gave her the time she needed to say whatever it was she was here to talk about it. “I…you know the proper rites for a fallen soldier. If things go sideways, like they usually do, will you…?” she asked, and Ralof nodded, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “It’ll all work out, though,” he assured her, although his words sounded empty and hollow even to himself. “If it doesn’t, just take care of it,” she says, and then the lapse into silence again. “You know, if things do go sideways, I’ll meet you at the bar in heaven. I’ll even buy you a drink,” she says, a wry smile on her face, and Ralof can tell that she is remembering something, maybe even someone, else. “Of course, A. You don’t even need to ask. I’ll make sure you’ll be honored the way you should be,” he promised. “Oh, I don’t know if I need to be honored, exactly,” she replied, a grin on her face, before she stood and left just as suddenly as she arrived. 


	14. do not go gentle into that good night

The Breach was larger than Aleksander remembered, more sinister. The walk back to the husk that had once been a temple took longer, too, and she felt a weariness in her bones. The temple, too, seemed beautiful, even as it lay in ruins. Before the explosion, it might have been enough to take her breath away. Now, all Aleksander could focus on was the fact that this felt like a funeral march. In a way, she supposed it was.

In the end, she didn’t need to call upon a dragon to fly er into the sky. With the magic burning through her hand, the mark sealed the Breach, even though it felt like her flesh was breaking and melting away, like Saren on the Citadel, and she couldn’t hold back the scream that tore itself out of her throat. It was only thanks to the magic flowing through her that she could stand at all. Cullen carried her back to Haven, and part of her cursed at her weakness, but she was alive and breathing and not mostly not dead, and that was all that mattered. She weakly joked that she would be on her best behavior for Cullen before she passed out, curled up against him, her head resting neatly on his shoulder. She woke up halfway back to Haven, the cold winds slipping around her. She curled closer to Cullen, a sleepy half-smile on her face. Her hand ached and tingled, but overall, the entire thing had gone much better than she had expected.

That night, Haven was bustling with celebrations. Aleksander stood, off to the side, watching. Cullen was with his men, at her insistence. They need to see their Commander look human, and he needed to relax. She felt more than heard movement off to her left, and without glancing back she knew it to be Mist. Few could move like she did, and so she kept her eyes forward. “Staying out of the celebrations?” the other girl asks, a faint smirk pulling up one corner of her mouth. “Yeah. I can’t help but feel like this was too easy,” Alek responds, crossing her arms over her chest. “It was. I doubt it’s over,” Mist agrees, and Aleksander turns to look at her. “Why aren’t you celebrating; showing them how the Brotherhood does it?” Alek asks, a faint smile on her face. “I doubt they would be pleased with ritual sacrifice, sister,” she answers, and Alek would have laughed if she hadn’t noticed something quite alarming.

“To arms, men!” Cullen yelled, his voice echoing across the town as he noticed it too. And then Aleksander lost him in the resulting surge of people. Seconds later, she saw Karliah and Jenassa scaling the great pillars on either side of the massive gates, bows in hands. Serana skidded to a stop in front of Aleksander, Cicero only steps behind her. She caught sight of Vilkas and Farkas, wolf armor glinting, as they joined Cullen. Ralof’s men were gathering near him as well, although her fellow Stormcloak was nowhere to be found. “Aela! To me!” Aleksander called out, as she saw the redhead start to scale the walls. She stopped, jumped off, and loped over to her. Cassandra races up to her, nearly losing her balance as she stopped. “Cullen is at the gates. We need to get to him,” Cassandra suggested, and Aleksander nodded, glancing around at her motley crew. “We’re with you. Until the end, if necessary,” Serana promised grimly. “Humble Cicero lives to serve,” the jester confirmed, and Aleksander thought back to the future she had witnessed with Dorian, to all the other friends she had watched die for her. “Don’t do anything stupid. If something happens, just get out,” she orders, and the steel in her voice leaves no room for argument. She swallows heavily, and she is suddenly glad that she hadn’t removed her weapons or armor.

The gate wasn’t far away, really, but pushing against the crowd of people surging towards the Chantry took Aleksander far longer than she’d have liked to reach the gates, and she’d gotten separated from most of the others, too, although she trusted them to join her sooner or later. “Cullen?” she asked breathlessly, and with a severe look from Cassandra, she straightened up. She should have been more professional, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was scared, and that was never a good thing. “One watch guard reported. It’s a massive force, the majority of it over the mountain,” he answers, reaching out to pull Aleksander closer. “Under what banner?” Josephine demands, and Aleksander doesn’t stop to ask what she’s doing here or when she got there, although she has to resist the urge to order Josephine into the Chantry. The ambassador is a diplomat, not a warrior, and she shouldn’t be out here.

“None,” Cullen answers grimly. “Dammit,” Aleksander swore. The only time she had faced a force so large was when they had made the final push to take Earth back. A loud banging on the gates shook her out of her reverie, and everyone flinched. Te doors bent inwards, but didn’t break, and Aleksander looked up at Jenassa. “I can’t come in unless you open the door,” came a male voice from the other side. Jen nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Let him in,” Alek said, and the gates opened just enough for Aleksander to see a templar fall, revealing a boy in raggedly patched clothing. He was practically ninety percent hat, and Aleksander slipped out of the gate, running to meet him, Cullen right behind her. The other man had his sword drawn, but Aleksander kept her weapons sheathed. “I’m Cole,” the blonde boy said, shaking his hair out of his face as she drew closer. “I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.” Cole stepped towards her, a hand extended as if to touch her, and he drew it back abruptly.

“What’s going on?” Aleksander asked. She’d meant to demand the information, to be less gentle, but something about the boy reminded her of a child. “The templars have come to kill you,” Cole answered, and Aleksander’s blood ran cold. “Templars? Is this the Order’s response to us siding with the mages? Attacking blindly?” Cullen growled, surging towards Cole, who backed away cowering. Cullen seemed to forget he had his weapon drawn, and he turned to look at Aleksander with disbelief etched into his features. Cole reached out this time, tapping gently on Alek’s arm to get her attention. “The Red Templars went to the Elder One. Do you know him? He knows you. You took his mages. There,” Cole says, pointing, and a man crested the rise, with something that might once have been a man following him. Even from so far away, Aleksander could tell that his face was twisted and ugly, red lyrium glinting.

“He’s very angry that you took his mages,” Cole said, matter-of-factly, and Aleksander’s stomach twisted. The whole ordeal left a bad taste in her mouth. “Cullen. Do you have a plan?” she asked, as calmly as she could manage. Cullen shook his head, dragging a hand through his hair. “Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this, we must control the battle,” he answered, and Aleksander nearly hissed in frustration. That was not a plan. That was the vague outline of a plan, even vaguer than the blueprints for the Crucible, and once again she was scraping something together and running out of time. “I’ll take my group, and we’ll try to hold them back enough for our men to fire the catapults,” Alek said instead. It was their best shot. “Hit them with everything you have,” Cullen said, and Aleksander nodded grimly, drawing her daggers. She had worn her nightingale armor, and hadn’t thought her great sword worth the trouble. The others filed out of the gates, coming to stand by her side.

“Mages!” Cullen shouted, “You have sanction to engage them. That man is Samson, and he will not make this easy. Inquisition! With the Dragonborn! Beat them back! Use everything at your disposal. For your lives! For all of us!” He raised his sword, and the army roared in response. Aleksander took off, her friends following her. She moved quickly, running towards the trebuchet. Mist slipped along in the shadows, Aela charging, already halfway into a change, and she let out a battle cry that might have been a howl. “Aela! Hunt with Hircine’s blessing tonight!” Alek called out, and Aela let go of whatever had been keeping hr human. Cicero stayed at her side, matching his pace to hers, and Serana trailed just behind them. Ralof broke away from his men, jogging to keep up with her. “I’m with you,” he grunted, and she nodded gratefully.

The first red templar she ran into was almost as monstrous as some of the Reaper forces she had seen, especially the adjutants. She Shouted, knocking a group of them off of their feet. One didn’t rise again, and she leaped forward, towards the others, slashing with her daggers. She was a whirlwind, barely able to be seen. Serana worked from a distance, and somewhere off to her right, Cicero was matching her strike for strike with her daggers. Mist fought from the shadows, using any opening she could get. Aela had gone ahead, and Aleksander could hear her howls. Each of them were devastating in their own right, and Aleksander Shouted again, marking several templars. Her throat ached and she coughed, blood staining her lips. She didn’t give herself time to recover, sending a quick prayer to Talos. Ralof was on her other side, covering her.

Several of the red templars had fallen from her Shouts alone, an she let out another one, draining their health until four more crumpled. And then it was over, the trebuchet firing as Aela loped back towards her, blood in her fur. “The other one isn’t firing. We need to get to it!” Ralof yelled over the din, and Aleksander nodded. Aela raced ahead once more, and Alek only took enough time to wipe the blood from her lips. Her throat burned all the way into her chest and her lips had gone numb, but she led the way, dispatching stray templars as she went. She noted with pride that none of her men were dead. They left a path of dead bodies in their wake, but all of them were alive.

It quickly became apparent that those who had manned the other trebuchet had been killed. Blood smeared the wood surface, dark and glinting, and Aleksander sent Mist to handle it. They formed another loose circle, their backs to each other, and killed anything that came their way with a fierce determination. Aleksander had taken several hits, and while she still darted in and out, she was getting slower. Aela was wrecking carnage on any templar that she could reach, and fewer of them were coming. Aleksander took a brief moment to heal herself, and saw Serana doing the same. They used much of their mana healing everyone else, aside from Cicero, who had somehow managed to keep up his demented dance without getting so much as a scratch on him. They had done their job well, though, and seconds after everyone had been healed in whatever way Aleksander could, the trebuchet fired, landing high on the mountain. An avalanche started, a small mercy. Both shots had severely crippled enemy forces, and Ralof let out a triumphant yell. The men still fighting stopped, letting out a cheer.

She had done it. She had given them a fighting chance, and she took a moment to let out a deep, ragged breath, her lips still numb and her chest still aching. Ralof walked over to her, putting a hand on Alek’s shoulder as he looked her over. “I’m okay,” she croaked, and it was a miracle that she was able to speak at all. Ralof pursed his lips and shook his head. “You’re not okay, but I can’t push the issue,” he said, admitting defeat, and Alek gave him a crooked smile.

She noticed the dragon just in time, and let out a wordless warning. The others had fought with her for long enough that they jumped back, the trebuchet bursting into flame as it flew over head. A dragon was something she could handle. Se was very good at that, in fact, but it kept flying, getting farther away. Aela shifted back into her human form, her armor gone, and Alek waved everyone ahead of her. They reached the gates in record time, the path deserted, and she stopped for a moment in front of the smith’s house, blasting away a crate that was blocking the door. She was panting, now, her daggers heavy in her hands, but she forced her legs to move fast. The dragon flew overhead again, but it was too fast for her to aim at, so she mumbled a curse and kept running. They were almost at the gates now, her quivering muscles throbbing with every step.

Cullen was there, outside the gates, a welcome sight as he ushered everyone inside. “Move it, move it!” he called out, and Aleksander pulled on her stamina reserves and put on a burst of speed for the next few feet. The gates clanged shut behind them and she bent double, hands on her knees, panting and coughing. Blood sprayed the world in front of her with every cough, and she grimaced. “We need everyone back to the Chantry. It’s the only building that might hold against that…beast,” Cullen said, and Ale did her best to straighten. Someone pushed a stamina draught into her hands and she looked up into Serana’s orange eyes. She mouthed her thanks, her voice giving out completely, before draining the potion. It tasted terribly bitter, but she swallowed greedily, feeling strength return to her.

Cullen turned to her. “Make them work for it,” he said, and she stepped forward, her gantleted fingers reaching up to frame his face. She kissed him once, firmly on the lips, before stepping back and clasping forearms with him. “Damn straight,” she promised, and ushered him ahead. He looked back at her once, her blood glimmering on his lips and worry shining in his eyes, before setting off for the Chantry. She took another moment to recover, healing herself and the others once more, and catching her breath. As she straightened and unsheathed her daggers, Karliah and Jenassa joined her along with Vilkas and Farkas. “There are probably some survivors holed up somewhere. We’ll split into teams and make quick run-throughs through the town to see if we can find any. Vilkas, you take Mist and Karliah and make a sweep of the upper parts of Haven. Check the apothecary’s shop and that area, where the houses are. I’ll take Serana and Ralof and check the major parts of the town, near the tavern. Aela, you take Farkas and Jenassa and do a quick run-through of the of the houses down the street. Get any of the survivors you find to safety if at all possible,” she orders, and though she hated to see them go, she knew it would be quicker that way, and lead to more lives saved.

The tavern was on fire, and the woman who ran it was trapped underneath a board. Red Templars were swarming outside, and Alek sent those with her to fight while she life the board up, shouldering it out of the way before helping the woman to her feet. “Run to the Chantry. Avoid the templars,” she said, and then she ducked outside again and joined the fray, and for a moment found herself desperately wishing for a gun of any kind. Instead, she lit up with her biotics, sending a shockwave rolling through the enemies, downing them long enough for the three of them to make quick work of them. They barely looked human, and Aleksander suppressed a shudder and then they were moving again.

Vilkas’s group was nearly overwhelmed, despite the quartermaster fighting along beside them. She Shouted, knocking them backwards long enough for her friends to reorient themselves, and then she fought. She leapt in front of a blow that would have killed the quartermaster, accepting the brunt of it before she sent a biotic pulse outwards, pushing the red templar back in time for her to slice it’s throat. It was over quickly, the red templars dead and everyone else alive, and Aleksander limped towards the Chantry, collapsing inside as Cullen barred the doors before rushing over to her. “I’m okay,” she said, through gritted teeth as Serana sent a healing spell her way. Her flesh knitted back together, and she was so tired. Everyone else, however, seemed relatively okay, aside from Chancellor Roderick, who had collapsed on Cole. The strange boy had appeared suddenly to help the Chancellor into a chair, and she didn’t complain. She did, however, regard the strange and ragged blonde boy curiously, a question in her eyes. “He tried to stop a templar. The blade went deep. He’s going to die,” Cole informs her, shaking his hair out of his eyes again.

“What a charming boy,” Roderick asked, and he nearly fell into his chair. Cullen cleared his throat, grabbing her attention. “Alek, our position isn’t good right now. That dragon stole back any time you might have bought us,” he says. She coughs, blood spraying Cullen’s face. He flinched, then reached up, wiping her bottom lip with his thumb. “Are you hurt?” he asked, gently, and she curled her fingers with his. “Shouted too much, that’s all,” she murmured. He frowns, but says nothing. “I’ve seen an archdeacon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that,” Cole says. Aleksander started; she’d nearly forgotten him. “I don’t care what it looked like! It’s cut a path for the army and they’ll slaughter us all,” Cullen barked. Alek’s eyes unfocused, and she felt distant, like she was watching a vid on her omni-tool. She shook her head to clear it.

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He wants her,” Cole said, pointing towards Aleksander. “Then I’ll give myself up. The village should be saved,” she said, trying to stand, and there was a simultaneous no from almost everyone in the room. “Look, none of us will have a chance anyway,” she starts, but Cole interrupts her. “That won’t matter to them. He’ll still raze the village. He wants to kill you, but no one else matters. I don’t like him.” Aleksander lets out a long, low groan of frustration. “You don’t like…” Cullen murmured, letting out a hiss of disbelief before focusing on Alek again. “There’s no tactics I can come p with to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them before was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets and cause one last slide,” he suggested. Aleksander let out a deep breath, her lungs burning. “We can’t do that. It’d bury Haven,” she protests, and she remembers the Citadel with the dead and broken bodies piled up, the lone keeper creeping through the hallways.

“We’re dying. There’s nothing we can do to change that outcome. But we can choose how. Most don’t get to do that,” he says, firmly. “There has to be a way,” she growls, surging to her feet. She could call Durnehviir. She could…she could what? Hold off the entire army by herself? “There is,” Roderick said, finally, and Aleksander whirled around to face him. “There is a path,” he continued, “you wouldn’t know it unless you had made the summer pilgrimage. The people cause escape. Andraste must have shown me, so I could tell you.” Aleksander turned to face Cullen, taking another deep breath. “Can you get these people out?” she demands. “I can, if the path is really there, but…what about you?” he asks, his voice suddenly small and afraid. “Better things have tried. I’ll make it out. I always do,” she promises, resting a hand on Cullen’s chest. “Actually, the gods get tired of your shit and bring you back,” Vilkas points out, and Aleksander lets out a laugh that could have been a sob. “Well, no matter how it happens, I’ll come back. I’ll take a small group to help me fight to the trebuchets. The rest of you will get everyone out,” she says, and Cullen stares at her for a moment.

They both know she probably won’t come back. There are too many red templars, and the dragon would be hard to kill even for the Dragonborn. “Well? Who are you taking?” Vilkas asks, after a pregnant pause. “Serana. And Mist,” she answers. “What about me?” Cicero asks, sounding disappointed, and Vilkas glares at her. “If you think I’m letting you walk out that door without me, you are sadly mistaken,” he tells her. “I need as many people to get out of Haven as possible. Cicero, you have a duty to the Night Mother. You can’t risk your life like this. Vilkas, Farkas, both of you are essential to the Companions. They need you more than I do. If you insist I take another person, then I’ll take Jenassa with me as well. That will be enough,” she insists. Cullen reaches out, grabbing her shoulder, and pulls her towards him. “Alek,” he whispers, and then her lips crash against his. She pulls back far too soon for both of them, and turns to face the door, squaring her shoulders. “Grant that my hands be steady, my aim true, and my feet swift. And should the worst come to pass, please grant me forgiveness,” she whispers, and then she is out in the cold night air, Serana and Mist and Jenassa shadowing her.

It smells of blood and death outside. There are more red templars, now, swarming towards them, and Aleksander is fighting recklessly and ruthlessly because if she’s going to die, she’s taking them with her. The dragon roars overhead, circling and burning the town. If only it would slow down, she could hit it with a Shout and ground it. But it doesn’t, so she presses on, and when she finally gets to the trebuchet, it is surrounded. “Jen! Aim it! We’ll keep them off you,” Aleksander yells, taking position right in front of the Dunmer woman and twirling her daggers. The red templars seem mindless, and they weren’t as hard to kill as they had been before. Either these were weaker, or she was hitting harder.

When the behemoth appeared, Aleksander laughed. Blood shone thick on the ground, and she leaped, slicing and stabbing wherever she could reach, and when it fell, the trebuchet had been aimed. “I’ll give you as much time as possible to get back to the Chantry. Follow them. Get out,” she ordered, and despite their sour expressions, they ran. Moments later, the dragon started flying towards her. Aleksander too a deep breath, preparing a Shout. The fire from the beast’s mouth, however, came too close, and she leapt backwards, thanking the Aedra and Daedra that it hadn’t set the trebuchet aflame. She landed on her back, sprawled out, and looked up to see the monstrous figure stalking towards her, the one who had stood beside Samson.

She pushed herself to her feet. She was not going to die lying down. The dragon bounded up behind her, too, and she turned briefly to let out a Shout. Dragonrend enveloped the dragon, and it let out a roar of indignation, but it wasn’t affect like it should have been. Tat was when Aleksander realized how wrong it was. She could not feel it’s soul like she could with other dragons.

“Enough,” the monster commanded, and Aleksander turned to stare at him. “Pretender,” he sneered, “you toy with forces beyond you. No more.’ Aleksander’s face twisted with a snarl and she reached for her daggers. They had fallen when she did, though, and were not at her sides. “I am not afraid of you,” she said, and she stood straight despite her wounds. “Words mortals often hurl at the darkness. Once, they were mine. They were always lies. Know me, and know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the will that is Corypheus! You will kneel!” he said, and the flash of the red lyrium growing out of him was surpassed only by the glint of her smile. “I am a god among men. I will never kneel,” she spat.

“You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not. I am here for the anchor. The process of removing it begins now.” Any retort that Alek might have had was cut off. Corypheus took one step towards her, a spell building up in his palm, one that yanked her hand forward. Closing the Breach with the mark had been painful, but this was pain on another level, pain like she’d felt when she jumped into the beam of green light on the Crucible. Her other hand grasps at her wrist, and she lets out a gasp, but she does not scream. “It is your fault, Herald,” Corypheus said, the title like a sneer on his lips, “you interrupted a ritual years in planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.” He sent another pulse through her hand, and she let out a long, low groan. “I do not know how you survived. But what marks you as touched, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.” He sent another pulse, stronger, and it brought her to her knees. “And you used it to undo my work. The nerve,” he sneered, and Aleksander spat at his feet. “I did what the gods sent me to do. And I will continue to do so,” she snarls, and the Elder One stalks forward, lifting her by her arm. Her shoulder scream in protest.

“I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years, I was confused, but no more! I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighting world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!” Corypheus threw her, and her back hit the trebuchet with a thump that sent agony blazing through her body. “I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was very occupied. In fact, they’re the entire fucking reason I can’t just die,” she snarled, and Corypheus sneered. “The mark is permanent. You have tainted it with our meddling.”

A sword lay at Aleksander’s feet, and she forced herself to kneel and pick it up, every muscle screaming in agony. “I will become the god that this world requires, and you will die here, with your illusions,” he said, and Aleksander would have raged and screamed and fought, if she could have, but instead she stood straight, pushing herself off the trebuchet, and that was enough. “You expect me to fight you. But that’s not why I let you prattle on,” Aleksander said, and she kicked the handle.

She dove to the side, falling, falling, falling, and the world was enveloped in white and then she landed. She thought, for the briefest of seconds before she lost consciousness, that she could smell the see and feel the whisper of warm green scales holding her aloft.


	15. rage, rage against the dying light

_ Commander Aleksander Shepard was in a bar. She wondered, for a moment, how she got there, but then she saw the shadows flickering on the walls and the blurry edges of everything. Outside the windows, there was something that could have been a beach, but her mind was foggy. The last thing she remembered was falling, and then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned, meeting the ice-blue eyes of her second favorite sniper. “Garrus? What are you doing here? Where is here?” she asked, and they were the only two in the bar, shadow-forms flickering on the walls. “I told you I’d meet you at the bar in heaven, Shepard. Thing is, neither of s are dead yet. Probably won’t be for awhile yet. So I thought maybe you could buy me one,” he answered, gesturing to the bar. So this was a dream, then, and nothing more. Garrus slid onto a stool and suddenly there were two shot glasses in front of them. “This is…it’s green,” she said, staring at it for a moment before another memory flickered at the edge of her mind and the two of them laughed.  _

_“Why am I here, Vakarian?” she asks, swiveling around on her barstool to face him, lounging back on the counter. She couldn’t remember sitting down. “Partly because you’re almost dead. Mostly because anytime anyone goes to sleep in this spiritsforsaken land you go somewhere else. That, and I just wanted to see you gain. Don’t worry, you’ll wake up again in a few minutes, with a whole lot of hurt, but alive,” he told her. Solas had told her about the Fade, about the nightly journeys he made. The explanation made as much sense as anything else. “Where’s everyone else?” she asked, looking around. “The ones who died in the war are out there, on the beach. Thane, ah, misses you. You can see them again, though, later. When it’s your time to join them,” he said, shifting awkwardly. Aleksander smiled, a small, sad thing. She tossed her drink back, felt the burn slithering down her throat. It felt like ryncol. It didn’t look like ryncol. She gave up trying to worry. “Thanks for the drink, Shepard,” he said, a wry grin on his face. “Of course, Vakarian,” she answered, standing and pulling her jeans up. “I’ll see you later, Shep. Give ‘em hell,” he told her, and then she woke up._  

* * *

Everything hurt, which was her first clue to her stubborn survival. The next was the overwhelming cold, and she realized her face was pressed against the snowy floor of a dark tunnel. The only thing she knew was that she had to get moving. She pushed herself to her feet, her muscles screaming. Some of her ribs were broken, her ankle felt like it was sprained, her shoulders did nothing but ache, and Aleksander had felt better when she stood on the Citadel that final time. Worse, she was shivering violently, making every muscle ache in unpredictable ways. “Gotta get out of here,” she mumbled, and stumbled forward. She nearly hit the wall, her hands coming up almost too late to keep her face from meeting the stone, and she determinedly pushed herself off of it, and began walking forward. 

She was agonizingly slow, but she finally made it out of the tunnels. She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know what time it was, or what day, or anything. All she knew was that she had to keep going. She fell into a rhythm, her feet producing a soothing sound as she stepped through the snow. She could call forth any of the simple spells, she didn’t have any potions. All she could do was put one foot in front of the other, and shiver. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, and pushed on. 

She did not know how long she walked, putting one foot in front of the other. Everything was numb, at this point, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She didn’t even shiver, just sucked in deep breaths and kept going. That was the important thing, really, she thought. She had done this before. She would make this death march a thousand times over if she had to, but her fight wasn’t over. The sun had risen and set several times by the time she found the embers. She collasped in the snow next to them, her face coming close to the snow and her eyes blurring. The embers were still warm, and cooling fast. That meant survival was nearby, so she stood again, and kept moving. “Gotta keep going,” she told herself, and there was a flickering light off in the distance. Fire?

She was close, so close, and then her legs buckled underneath her and she fell. She let out a muffled scream, tried to push herself up again, but it didn’t work. It was like her legs had forgotten to be legs. She let out a long, low groan. _The Great Commander Shepard, Savior of the Citadel, was going to die because she got too cold,_ she thought bitterly, and then there was Cullen and Cassandra and a scout, calling her name and rushing towards her. Something that might have been a smile ghosted across her face before she crumpled, passing out in the snow just as Cullen swept her up into his arms. 


	16. ain't no rest for the wicked

When Aleksander woke, her muscles were still sore and aching, but she was wondrously alive and on the path of healing. The healer sitting next to her informed her that it had been a week since she had been found, and if it weren’t for the skilled magics of Solas that she probably wouldn’t have ever woken at all. She drifted back off to sleep again not long after, and she dreamt of a dark and dead forest that she knew well. When she woke again, it was to the sound of voices raised in argument. She lay there for a moment, her eyes still shut as she listened. When it seemed the arguments reached a peak, she rolled over, propping herself up on one arm. “You need rest,” Mother Giselle said, turning to her. The Chantry mother must have been the one watching over Aleksander. “They’ve been at it for hours,” she replied, ignoring the suggestions of rest like any self-respecting, too-stubborn Commander. “They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame. Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus,” the mother said softly. The mention of Corypheus was enough to make her sling her legs over the side of the cot. “If that thing is still out there, we need to move. We need to find somewhere safe,” she said, and she didn’t think she could endure the deaths of so many so soon. “They are uncertain where. And there are other questions, about you. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand…and fall. And now, we have seen her return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What ‘we’ have been called to endure? What ‘we,’ perhaps, must come to believe?” Mother Giselle says, and Aleksander scoffs. “I know in my heart that the gods put me here to do this. I can’t get away from them. But that didn’t help me at Haven. That didn’t help the people who are dead now, because of that monster. I’ve seen a lot of shit in my day. That doesn’t even come close. But it’s still harrowing,” she replies. She rose and limped away, towards her arguing advisors, before Mother Giselle could respond. 

They looked drained, exhausted, and morale was low. Before Aleksander could do anything, however, Mother Giselle began singing behind her. It was a beautiful song, to be sure, but suddenly Aleksander felt the points of her ears burn acutely, and she felt her history weigh heavily on her. These were not her people. She was thrust into the role of their savior, for sure, but they were not her people, and she was not of theirs. She met Solas’s gaze across the clearing, and when he beckoned her over, she went happily. He lead her off to the side, where there was a lone torch casting a soft light over the snow. 

“The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting. Their faith is hard-won, lethallan, worthy of pride…save one detail. The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carries? It is ours. He used that orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion at the Conclave. We must find out how he survived, and we must prepare for their reaction when they learn that the orb is of our people,” he tells her. Fuck. Aleksander didn’t need another problem that would spiral out of control. 

“All right. What is it, and how do you know about it?” she asked, clasping her hands behind her back. She had played politician for almost a year while they fought the Reapers, she could resume that role now. “Such things were foci, said to channel power from our gods. Some where dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remain are references in ruins and faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire. However Corypheus came to it, the orb is undeniably elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith,” he answers. Aleksander shakes her head. “Even if we defeat Corypheus, the humans will eventually find a way to blame elves,” she scoffed. Despite the fact that they weren’t her people, not truly, Aleksander still felt ties to them through her flimsy memories, and this was a situation she had seen countless times before. 

“I suspect you are correct. It is unfortunate, but we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies. Faith in you is shaping this moment, but it needs room to grow. By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed you. Scout to the north. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. It is a place where the Inquisition can build and grow. It is called Skyhold, and while I can lead you there, you must lead them. Show them that you can still care for them,” he told her, and so she did. The next month was grueling, as the entire Inquisition traveled. Aleksander found herself scrambling over rocks and up trees to pick out new routes for them. 

When they arrived, however, Skyhold was not empty. There was a shuttle taking off, and Aleksander started cursing. They stopped well out of range, and Cullen came up to her. “What is that?” he asked, and there was a healthy amount of fear and curiosity in his voice. “It’s a fucking shuttle. I just hope it’s friendlies. Let me handle this, though,” she says, and she takes awhile to armor herself in her old, battered, and scarred N7 armor. She checked her shields with her omni-tool, and then she was as ready as she was ever going to be. 

She made her way down alone, and she was halfway across the bridge when the first shot was fired, hitting her knee and causing her shields to flash a warning across her visor. She reached a hand up to her comm, set it on an open channel. “This is Commander Shepard, Alliance Military. Stop firing,” she said, speaking calmly and clearly. Her comms crackled and then another voice came over it. “Shepard? Is it actually you?” the voice asked, and Shepard nearly choked. “James Vega! I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again!” she answers, her eyes alight. “The Normandy crashed nearby, after that freaky beam from the Crucible. When we got the comms system up and running, the Council decided to put up a test colony here. There have been shuttles have been bringing in food and other supplies. What the hell happened with you?” he asks. “It’s…a long fucking story,” she answers, and it takes her a moment to realize that she has tears in her eyes. She wipes them away. “Well, come on. Liara’s been waiting to see you. You know, she never lost hope that you’d come back to her,” he says, and Aleksander’s stomach lurches. “Oh no. Oh, James, I think I’ve fucked up,” she murmurs. “Shit. I’ll come down, we can talk and figure things out,” he says, and it takes twenty minutes before he arrives. Aleksander spends it pacing back and forth. 

“What’s the issue?” he asks, stopping next to her. “I…I never thought I’d see any of you ever again. I died on the Crucible. That’s why I look different. I was…you know that story I told you about the gods and how I was reincarnated on Mindoir?” she says. He nods, wordlessly, and Aleksander drags her hand through her hair. “That happened here. I thought I’d never see anyone again. There’s…The Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, Cullen Rutherford and I…God, Liara’s going to hate me,” she moans. “So you’ve got someone new, and Liara’s knocked up with your kid,” James says, and she can hear the judgement in his tone, even if he doesn’t voice it. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she whispers. 

“Well, the first thing will be to get everyone moved into this fortress. We’ve been working on improving it, but it’s slow work. Maybe your Inquisition can help with that. After everyone gets moved in, you have a talk with Liara and that commander,” James tells her, and so Aleksander returns to the Inquisition with James Vega at her side. It takes them two days to get the civilians moved in and the soldiers set up in the valley below, and after those two days are up, Aleksander finally sees Liara. Cullen is standing at her side when she notices the asari standing at the landing on the steps, a white dress draped artfully over her stomach, and Aleksander steels herself. She’d already told Cullen the situation. “See the blue one? We need to talk to her,” she tells him, and he nods mutely, suddenly as ansty as she is. She walks up the stairs, and with the cold greeting she gets from Liara, she realizes someone must have told her already. She thought she might be sick. 

“We need to talk, Shepard,” Liara says, and Aleksander follows her up the rest of the stairs and through the main hall, and into the garden. They stop underneath a large stone gazebo, and Liara turns to face her, her hands crossed protectively over her stomach. “If you no longer wish to be with me because of…extenuating circumstances, I understand. Asari children are usually raised with a single parent, so she won’t be missing anything,” Liara says, but Aleksander has known her long enough to see underneath her mask and see the pain that she’s causing. Liara had never expected to raise this child with her, but to have Aleksander here and alive and unable to raise their daughter with her was…well, a low blow. “I…don’t know what I want, Liara. I love you, and I love Cullen, and I want to be in our daughter’s life. I won’t live long at all. She won’t have many memories of me. I want her to have good ones while she can. Maybe, fuck, maybe we can work something out. I don’t know,” she says, and suddenly she feels so tired. 

“Goddess, Shepard,” Liara breathes, and Aleksander takes a moment to lean against the cool, rough stone of the gazebo. She knows that when she looks at Liara again, there will be tears in the asari’s eyes. “Fuck,” is all she says, her eyes shut tightly. Then there is a hand on her shoulder, and it’s cool enough that she knows it’s not Cullen. Cullen runs hot, a lot hotter than the hand gripping her shoulder gently. “Aleksander, it’ll be okay,” Liara says, and Aleksander almost hates the rush of emotion that bubbles up. “How? What are we going to do to fix this?” Aleksander asks, and when she turns to face the asari again, there is a wry smile on her face. “That would depend upon you and the Commander. Remember when I approached you after Virmire, with Major Alenko? Despite the fact that there was nothing between you and him, we both thought there was. I was willing to share. If you truly love both myself and this Commander Cullen, then perhaps we can work out an arrangement like that,” Liara suggests, and Aleksander wants to laugh and cry at the same time. 

“I don’t know. Would that work out?” she asks, and Cullen shares a glance with the asari. “I honestly don’t know. I am willing to get to know you, though, Liara, if you’re also willing to give this a try,” he says, and Liara’s smile is like a sharp stab for Aleksander. “I would like that. Perhaps this way we will not have to fight,” she says, and Aleksander’s heart hurts. “I…I think, while you do that, I should stay away. From both of you,” she said, and she didn’t tell them that she felt like she needed to punish herself. She didn’t know exactly what she had done wrong, only that she felt desperately terrible and either needed a fight or a strong drink. Or, more realistically, several strong drinks. 

Liara tilted her head, her wide blue eyes staring up at her, and Shepard felt like she could get lost in them. “If that is what you think best, Alek. It’ll take a lot of effort to make this work, but I believe that we can do it,” Liara told her, her voice soft and gentle and Aleksander thought she didn’t deserve anything like this. “I…I think it’s something I need. If you need me, though, I’m here. Always. Both of you, that is,” she says, shifting awkwardly. Liara’s smile is radiant, and even Cullen has a small, nervous smile on his face. Aleksander felt sick, guilt eating away at her. Did it even really count as something wrong? She felt like it did. She felt vile and wrong, but there was nothing to do now but move forward. Or, in this case, back away slowly with a quick “I’ll leave you to it” and then a beeline for the tavern. 

* * *

Two hours later, Aleksander had consumed more alcohol than should be humanly possible, and was only slightly drunk. The Iron Bull was sitting with her, and he’d started out matching her shot for shot until he slowed down. “One of us should be able to walk back to their room tonight,” he’d said, and then Garrus and Vega had joined them and Aleksander had almost cried. “I missed you two,” she said, and Garrus didn’t say anything, only brought out a pack of cards. “What are we playing, Wicked Grace?” Bull asked. “I was thinking poker. Never heard of Wicked Grace,” Garrus answered. “I’ve never heard of poker. Teach me the rules?” Bull asked, and it turned out that Wicked Grace and poker were remarkably similar. “We should play strip poker,” Vega suggested, and Aleksander snorted a laugh despite herself. 

Another hour, and Aleksander owed three hundred credits to Vega and two hundred to the Iron Bull, despite the fact that he didn’t even use credits. She was also significantly more drunk, and when she finally stumbled away from the table to go to bed, she made it as far as the door and slid down beside it outside. She hiccuped, and then that turned into a sob, and before she knew it she was curled up, her face pressed against her knees, and she was crying. She fell asleep like that, crumbled up against the unforgiving walls of the tavern. When she woke, she was in the quarters she’d been shown earlier that day, curled up on her opulent bed with one of the worst headaches ever.


	17. i'd like to be my old self again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Shepard feels guilty, Cullen and Liara talk, and Leliana has a talk with Shepard about the unfairness of the situation.

                In the days following the Inquisition’s arrival at Skyhold, Aleksander was remarkably busy. There was just no way the fortress could hold them all, despite how impressive it was. She spent hours with Josephine and Leliana, going over every possible way to fit people inside, and still they decided that most of their soldiers would have to stay in the valley down below. They also had to coordinate everything alongside the new Council colony, and that opened up a whole slew of new problems that Aleksander hadn’t wanted to deal with. “I’m a damn Spectre, I saved the entire fucking galaxy, and I’m setting up a base of operations here whether you like it or not,” she snarled at Sparatus after two hours of arguing over comm. The turian’s mandibles had twitched in something that was almost like a grin. “Very well, Commander. We leave the colony in your care,” he’d said before hanging up, and Aleksander threw her omni-tool across the room with a scream. She’d thought Josephine would murder her when the ambassador found out they’d have to take care of an entire colony alongside the Inquisition, but the diplomat had merely sighed and rolled up her sleeves before starting her paperwork.

                Finally, after weeks of frantic work, the soldiers were set up in the valley below, the guest quarters were being renovated, Aleksander had her own suite at the top of a tower, and Skyhold was finally coming together. Vega and the others had done wonders already when it came to repairs, and the teams that the Inquisition called in were rather impressed with the work they’d done, picking up seamlessly where they had left off. With all that was going on, Alek hadn’t seen Cullen or Liara for two weeks after they’d decided to test the waters. Which was for the best, she decided. They needed to get to know each other if this frail and fragile thing was going to work at all, and they needed to do it before Halamshiral and before the baby came. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, sat on the bed for a moment and just breathed. The stress was starting to wear her down; she was fraying at the edges already. With a sigh she picked up her omni-tool from the bedside table and called Admiral Hackett.

* * *

                Liara had watched the flurry of activity from a relatively peaceful position- behind a desk. She’d gotten her Broker network set up as soon as the colony had gotten extranet signal. Doctor Chakwas wanted her to rest as much as possible anyway, with the combination of Liara’s late pregnancy and the lack of proper medical equipment the birthing process was probably going to be a lot more stressful than it would be in a med-bay or at the hospital. Instead, all they had was the infirmary and the rudimentary supplies that were common in Thedas. Thedas was, however, turning out to be a very interesting place with magic that seemed to function similar to the natural biotics on Thessia. She had agents out in the world now, researching to see if they could find a link. There were plenty of apostates and Templars running around, and so far the only connection she had been able to draw up was how remarkably similar lyrium was to element zero.

                Even now she was bent over a datapad, until she pushed herself back from the desk and leaned back, one hand resting lightly on her stomach and the other rubbing the back of her neck. She was starting to go cross-eyed from staring at the reports for so long. They were mostly the same anyway, so with another sigh she pushed herself away from the desk completely and went to stand by the window, leaning against it. The sun hit her face and she let her eyes slip shut. She’d had so few moments of peace.

                The door opened and Liara turned around, her hand twitching to her side even though she was unarmed. She relaxed once she recognized Cullen standing in the door, his hands hanging awkwardly by his side. “Uh, hello, Liara,” he began. She smiled at him, to reassure him more than anything. “Hello, Cullen. Do you need me for something?” she asked. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, one hand going to rest on the hilt of his sword. She’d noticed that it was one of his nervous ticks. “I thought I’d ask you to dinner. Aleksander is still busy, or, well, avoiding us. I thought perhaps some company might be appreciated,” he replied, a smile quirking up one corner of his mouth. Liara could certainly see why Aleksander had been attracted to him. “I’d like that,” she says, and Cullen’s smile is blindingly bright.

                He helps her into her coat and then offers her his arm, which she links hers through. She wasn’t sure yet how she felt about him. On one hand, she thought she should be angry at him for stealing her bondmate. But even she knew that Aleksander belonged only to herself. She was curious about him, certainly. Mostly, she harbored no ill will towards him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. The galaxy was an awfully large place, and she wondered what kind of forces were involved to make it so that Aleksander and Liara met again.

                She was snapped out of her thoughts when Cullen opened the door the tavern. It was still early enough that it was mostly quiet. “Go get a seat, I’ll go grab the food,” he said, his voice low in her ear, and she nodded, drifting up the stairs and to a seat in an empty area. She shrugged her jacket off, laying it over the back of her chair. It was warm enough inside that she didn’t really need it, and a few minutes later Cullen arrived, his arms full of food. Some of it was food the Council had provided, and some of it local.

                “Those ration packs aren’t the best food to introduce you too,” Liara commented as he sat down. “Oh? And what foods would you start with?” he asked, pushing hers towards her. She thought for a moment as she unwrapped her fork. “I’d show you some fruit from Thessia first. Even for non-biotics, the eezo gives off a pleasant buzz. It’s also sweet and juicy. I’d give anything for some, now, actually,” she said. Instead, she popped a piece of the local Ferelden bread in her mouth. She…wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. It was bland and flavorless, not even good bread. She took a sip of her drink to hide her distaste.

                “What’s eezo?” Cullen asked, popping a fry into his mouth. Potatoes were one thing that could be exported fairly easily and cheaply, apparently. “The closest thing here is lyrium, but eezo is a…tamer substance. It is still quite dangerous, although it’s very common to Thessia. All asari are natural biotics, but other races experience…problems when exposed to eezo. A small amount, such as what’s in our fruit, wouldn’t harm anyone,” she answered, taking a bite of the ham.

                “So, what’s a biotic?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the table and focusing his attention on her. “The closest parallel here is a mage, although from the treatment of mages and the power mages have that I’ve documented and seen, that’s not a good analogy. Biotics manipulate mass effect fields, whereas mages use their own power to produce the desired effects. Biotics cannot create fire like a mage can, but we are dangerous in our own right. I could lift that table over there from here, without breaking a sweat,” she said, gesturing to an empty table across the room. He tilted his head curiously, so she waved her hand. The blue glow that sprang up around her was comforting and familiar, and with little effort the table rose gracefully into the air. She held it there for a moment and let it back down, turning to look at Cullen once more.

                “Impressive. I’ve seen Alek do similar things,” he commented. Liara smiled. While the Commander was human and limited by her L5 implants, she was capable of some impressive biotic moves. “Yes, the Commander is formidable. She doesn’t have the same sort of control that I do, though. Her use of biotics is wilder, suited for combat,” she replied. Cullen grinned at her, reached out and touched her hand lightly. “While Aleksander is an interesting subject for both of us, I’d prefer to get to know you,” he said, gently, and Liara nodded. “I think that’s a fine idea,” she agreed, and so they sat and talked until the tavern filled and grew noisy, and then he walked her back to her bedroom. 

* * *

  
                Liara got along quite well with Leliana, as well. The spymaster had set up several meetings to try and integrate her agents with the Broker’s agents, and so far they’d worked out a rudimentary system. “You are quite dedicated,” Leliana said, during one of their first meetings. “I am a very good information broker,” Liara had responded, a soft and faint smile on her face. Later, as they grew more comfortable in the other’s presence, they would tell stories about what made them the women they were today. Leliana spoke of Marjolaine, and of the Great Game in Orlais, and of becoming and being the Left Hand of the Divine. Liara talked about Aleksander’s death and Cerberus and the Collectors and the choice she’d had to make. She talked about Feron, and about fighting her way through the old Shadow Broker’s forces. The two of them could often be found together, talking, when they were away from their work for once. Leliana also offered advice on Liara’s romantic situation, and Liara offered comfort and sympathy when it came to Leliana’s own. Liara understood how difficult it was for Leliana to be separated from the Warden. Their relationship developed rather quickly, once they established trust.

* * *

  
               “She misses you, you know,” Leliana said one day, startling Aleksander. She’d been bent over the war table for the past twenty minutes, contemplating their next move. “What?” Alek asked, flicking her tongue over dry lips. “Liara. She misses you. She thought she lost you again, and then you show up but you are distant and cold. It is jarring for her,” the bard explains. Alek shook her head, pushing herself off of the war table. “Liara deserves so much better than anything I could give her,” she said, finally, crossing her arms over her chest. Leliana let out a soft noise of frustration.

                “You are so intent on blaming yourself, here. You have done nothing wrong. Neither of you have. The only thing you are doing wrong is distancing yourself from her. For any relationship to be successful you need trust and communication. You have closed yourself off from both Cullen and Liara, and neither of them deserve that. Either you stop distancing yourself and make an effort, or you end it. They deserve better than this,” Leliana said, clasping her hands behind her back and eyeing Aleksander. The elven woman seemed to deflate before her. “You…are right. I’ll speak to them tomorrow. It’s rather late, now,” she conceded. Leliana shot her a sharp look, but dropped the matter.

* * *

 

               When Aleksander sank into her bed that night, she felt more relaxed than she’d been in a long time. Most of the more stressful situations had been dealt with. The only thing left was to talk to Liara and Cullen, and get fitted for her formal wear to Halamshiral. She’d requested something with trousers for herself, if only because it was easier to move and fight in. She’d been caught in a dress and heels once before, on the Citadel with Joker, and that wasn’t an experience she wished to repeat. She also had to decide who to take with her to Halamshiral. There was only six invitations, and while she could bring a few more disguised as servants, it wasn’t an option she was ready to take. All she knew was that she wanted Cullen and Liara by her side. There wasn’t anyone she trusted more to have her back, aside from Vakarian and Cassandra. She stretched, sinking deeper into her mattress. “It’ll wait for some other time,” she murmured, picking up her omni-tool. She sent Liara and Cullen messages letting them know she’d stop by sometime tomorrow, and then she put a movie on softly until she fell asleep.


	18. but i'm still trying to find it

_“You think so?” Aleksander asked, glancing over at Liara. The asari smiled at her, a soft and gentle thing. “There’s no doubt in my mind,” she replied, and Aleksander looked back up at the empty void of space above them. Liara reached out, linking her fingers with Shepard’s. Shepard squeezed gently, a soft smile forming on her own face. In this spot, with Liara beside her and the galaxy above her, Aleksander felt timeless. This moment would last forever, tucked away in a single breath._

_“It’s amazing how far we’ve come, isn’t it?” Liara asks, and Aleksander thinks back to their first meeting on Therum and on the very long road it took them to reach where they are now. “It is. It’s been a good ride,” she says, and there is something infinitely sad in her voice. She has seen this story play out a thousand times. Heroes never made it to the end of the day, when the world was saved and all was well. She wouldn’t consider herself a hero, just a stubborn woman with the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, but everyone else thought she was one. “The best. Somehow, though, I fear that it’s about to end,” Liara murmurs, and Shepard finally turns to look at her again. She was reminded simultaneously how old and young Liara was at once._

_“Yeah, the hero of the story usually gives their life in some great sacrifice, but they never get to see the happy ending,” Aleksander answers, and she isn’t sure if she’s sad or bitter or nostalgic or all of them at once. “As much faith as I have in you, you are only mortal,” Liara says, reaching out to push a strand of Aleksander’s hair out of her face. “I am, aren’t I? As much as the Alliance would like to claim otherwise, I’m only human,” she replies. Liara’s hand drifts downward, cupping Shepard’s cheek in her palm._

_“This might be the end. For us. And we talked about having all those little blue babies together and Goddess help me, Shepard, I don’t think that’s how this is going to end. But we could have one. I could map your DNA here, now, and if you don’t come back to me I’ll still have something. I’m not ready to lose you,” Liara says, and something in Aleksander shatters. She takes a deep breath, and something feels new and different and changed. “Do it. And if I do come back to you, then we’ll have already gotten started,” she answers, swallowing the tears that threaten to come up. They both know Shepard won’t survive this. She has survived too much already._

_When Liara kisses her, the salty tang of her tears mixes with the soft sweetness of her lips, and Aleksander is desperately lost._

* * *

 

She wakes up alone in her bed at Skyhold, weak morning sunlight streaming through the windows. Her omni-tool has been knocked off the bed, landing upside down on the floor. She sits up, swinging her legs off the side of the bed and letting out a sigh, rubbing her eyes. Leliana was right; she needed to get her head out of her ass and talk to her bondmate. She should probably shower, first, though.

Once she was ready, she headed downstairs to Liara’s office. Liara was inside, sat at the far side of a table in the corner, and Cullen was sitting opposite her. When Aleksander entered the room, Liara’s head had dipped forward in that cute little laugh she did. It didn’t take long, however, for both of them to snap their attention to the door, and Aleksander. It took Liara a moment to realize that it was her bondmate standing there in the doorway, like a lost dog, and when she did, she pushed her chair back and stood.

“Aleksander,” she breathed, and Aleksander thought she could get lost in the deep blue of her eyes. “Liara. I’ve been...an inconsiderate jackass. I was so desperate to place the blame on myself that I never stopped to think about what you were going through. I’m sorry. For running off and leaving you like that. And uh, Cullen, I’m sorry too. It wasn’t fair to either of you,” she said, and then Liara was there and her lips were warm and soft and sweet against Aleksander’s and Aleksander felt like she had finally come home.

The kiss was chaste, over almost before it started, and when Liara pulled back, both of their eyes were wet. “It’s okay. I forgive you,” Liara whispered, and then there was a warm hand on Alek’s shoulder. “I do too, for what it’s worth. At the very least, Liara and I have spent quite a bit of time together. She’s a delight to be around,” he says, his voice deep and his breath sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

“I’m ready to stop running now. From both of you. We can decide where we’re going from here,” Aleksander said, and her tone had a sort of finality about it. “We can attempt my suggestion from earlier. The Commander and I know each other quite well by now,” Liara said, and it was a thinly veiled insult that Aleksander didn’t mind. “I’m more than okay with that,” Cullen murmurs from behind her. “Then let’s do it. It’ll give the people of Thedas something to talk about, at least,” she says, and Liara’s smile is all that she needs.


	19. a herald and a champion walk into a bar

Aleksander was leaning over the war table when Varric entered. “Please don’t tell me something else has gone tits up,” she sighs, pushing herself up and pressing her palms against her eyes. Varric let out a wry chuckle, leaning casually against the wall.

“Not this time, Fireball. I, ah, know someone who might be able to help with Corypheus. Someone with some…first-hand experience,” he said, and Aleksander crossed her arms over her chest and looking down at him, amusement twitching onto her face.

“Sera was right. You do seem to know everyone,” she says, and Varric grins.

“Everyone acting all inspirational recently jogged my memory. I sent a letter to an old friend, and she may know more about what Corypheus is doing. Regardless, she can help either way,” he says, and there’s a twinge in the back of Aleksander’s mind.

“Well, we always need more allies. Introduce us, if you would,” she says, letting her hands fall to her side and adopting a more relaxed, casual position. She was still tense, still fraying at the edges, but she’d learned to play politician well, and allies were never won if they thought you didn’t trust them.

“Parading around might cause a bit of a fuss. I thought it’d be better if you met her in private. On the battlements. Trust me, it’s complicated,” he says, and Aleksander raises an eyebrow.

“Very well, Varric. Is she available to meet now? I’ve got a few hours clear, although gods know when something else might come up, so it’s best to do this as quickly as possible,” she replies, straightening her tunic and adjusting her daggers so they seemed less threatening.

“I’ll go get her. You go on to the battlements, Fireball,” he says.

It was a surprisingly warm day, despite being so high up in the cold mountains. The wind was blowing lightly, almost teasingly. She leaned back against the edge of the battlements, her arms crossed as she waited for Varric. After a few minutes of sunshine shining bright on her face, the dwarf finally arrived, accompanied by an aging, gray-haired warrior. “Inquisitor,” he said, a smug smile on his face, “meet Elena Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall.”

The two women spent a few seconds eyeing each other up before Hawke gave her an easy grin. “Though, I don’t really use that title much anymore,” she says, and Aleksander pushes herself off the battlements, stepping forward and shaking hands with the warrior.

“Hawke, this is the Inquisitor. I thought you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus, seeing as you and I did fight him,” Varric says, stepping up briefly to introduce them. At that, Aleksander’s ears perked up.

“You’ve fought Corypheus?” Aleksander asks. Hawke steps forward, leans against the battlements, and looks out over Skyhold’s vast courtyard.

“You’ve already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I’m sure anything I could say pales in comparison,” Elena responds. Aleksander joins her in leaning against the stone walls. She’d heard the stories about Hawke, of course, had read Varric’s book. Behind them, they hear Varric making his retreat, leaving them alone on the battlements.

“Oh, I don’t know. You did save a city from a horde of rampaging Qunari,” Aleksander replied, a faint grin on her face. Elena returned the grin, although there was an old sadness lingering.

“I don’t see how that really applies, unless there was a horde of rampaging Qunari I didn’t know about,” Hawke says, and Aleksander can sense the start of an easy friendship between them.

“There’s a Qunari. He’s almost a horde by himself. Thankfully, though, Bull is on our side,” Alek replies, a wry grin on her face. Elena smiles and pushes herself off the battlements, crossing her arms over her chest. Still, the woman looked out over the expanse of Skyhold’s courtyard rather than face Aleksander.

“So, down to business. What can I tell you?” she asked, and Aleksander’s hands curled around the edge of the stone wall.

“Varric said you’d fought Corypheus before?” Alek asks, again, and this time Hawke is ready to answer.

“We didn’t just fight him. He was dead. The Grey Wardens were holding him, and somehow he managed to use their connection to the darkspawn to influence them. He got into their heads, messed with their minds, and turned them against each other. If the Wardens have disappeared, then perhaps he’s controlling them again,” Elena said. Aleksander shifts, nervously. This sounded too much like indoctrination for it to sit comfortably with her, and she wondered if Corypheus had some connection to the Reapers.

“Do you think it could be reversed? That they could be freed?” Alek asked, her voice low. Indoctrination affected the brain itself- there was almost no chance at recovery, not with the speed that it progressed with and the scope of the damage it did. If whatever Corypheus was doing could be reversed, well, they were already a few steps ahead.

Elena sighed, dragging a hand through her graying hair. “It’s possible. We’d need to know more, though. I’ve got a friend in the Wardens- he was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Loghain. The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, I’ve not heard anything,” she said, and Aleksander thought she sounded so _tired_.

“Corypheus would certainly count as corruption. Did your friend disappear as well?” she asks, and she turns from the courtyard and faces Elena.

“No. He told me he’d be hiding in an old smuggler’s cave in Crestwood- gave me the location and everything. He’s probably our best lead. We can head out to Crestwood whenever you like, just let me know a few hours before we leave. I’ll travel with you until we find Loghain. It’s the least I can do, Inquisitor,” she says, and Aleksander gives the woman a soft, reassuring smile.

“I appreciate the help, Elena. And please, call me Aleksander. I’ll speak with my advisors about it, and once Leliana’s spies give us a report of the area, we’ll head out. I’ll let you know more later,” Alek says, and Elena smiles.

“Of course, Aleksander. Thank you,” she says.

* * *

Aleksander was sorry to leave Skyhold. She’d decided on taking Varric, the Iron Bull, Garrus, Cassandra, and Ashley. Elena would be accompanying them until they found Warden Loghain, but there was no guarantee that she’d stay afterwards- and Varric might want to spend a few hours catching up with his friend. Right now, though, the hardest thing to do was say goodbye to Liara. She’d already said farewell to Cullen- he wasn’t feeling well. While he hated to see her go after this frail and fragile thing started to bloom between the three of them, he was less bothered by it than the asari.

“Shepard, promise me you’ll be careful,” the asari said, and Aleksander gave her a cocky smirk in return.

“I’m always careful, love. I’d bring you along, but I don’t want to risk anything happening to you. Not now,” she said, and she lets her fingers trail lightly over Liara’s stomach. Liara tucked her head underneath Alek’s chin, her arms wrapped around her neck.

“I know. I just…I’m worried. I’ve only just gotten you back,” she says, and Aleksander presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“I know. But I’ll come back again. Besides, you’ve got Cullen, now. You’ll be fine until I return. I’ll check in every day, too. Everything will be fine,” she promised, and Liara smiles, leaning up and pressing a kiss to the corner of Alek’s mouth.

“It better be,” she said, and while there was still a rift of things left unsaid between them, they were back to some semblance of normal. Aleksander wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world.


End file.
